Singing in the Dead of Night
by TreeHugger091188
Summary: Before Kate there was another girl. A thief. A thief better than Neal himself. He never quite got over her, but he did move on. Now she's back, and under some very curious circumstances. I'm editing this story, and then will be updating soon!
1. Blackbird

Neal walked into the office fedora in hand, sly stride in his step. He smiled charmingly at several of the female FBI agents as he passed them. There was a whistle on his lips, and a certain spring to his step that could only be attributed to some strange kind of happiness. He didn't know what it was about today, but today felt like it was going to be a good day. The sun was shining, the cabis were beeping, the pigeons were... well we won't go there. Regardless of that matter all of New York seemed to be happy right along with him, in it's own angry resentful way. And Neal would venture to say that Peter may actually be in a tolerable mood today.

"Neal get your ass up here! I don't have time for your dodling," said Peter growled from his office on the second floor. Well, maybe Neal had been wrong. The man squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and strode up the steps easily still whistling. "And stop that whistling, it's annoying."

"Right, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," it was said under his breath but the look Peter gave Neal said that the older man had heard it. He stepped into Peter's office, and took up residence on the arm of one of the chairs. "So what's with the brooding?"

"What do you know about Blackbird?"

"Blackbird the thief Blackbird," Neal asked. His eyebrows shot up, and his bright blue eyes went impossibly wide. Peter would use one word to describe his partner, shocked. It was very clear Neal knew something about Blackbird, and didn't expect to be hearing anything of the character. Which Peter found insanely interesting.

"Yes, that's the one. There is only one Blackbird after all." Peter said irritably his eyes moving back to the file before him, and the photo of the woman they suspected of being said Blackbird.

"Well not necessarily true Peter. There is the song Blackbird, by the Beatles. Then there are several blackbirds just outside on the sidewalk, or the-," Neal was cut off by a glare, and sighed worrying the brim of his hat. Peter had never seen the man before him look so positively frazzled.

"You know her don't you," it was rhetorical, Peter knew Neal and Blackbird had had dealings in the past. It said so in Neal's file. Which is precisely why this case had come to them.

"Correction, I knew her. I haven't seen her in, oh, five years. Just before she quit the business. Why, what do you have on her?" Now Neal was curious, and worried. He didn't like the idea of Blackbird getting caught. She was too good for that. She'd been just as good, if not better than him. It helped that she was a compulsive liar who never told anyone her real name until she really trusted you. And oh was that trust hard to earn. It also helped that she'd spent her entire life burying the truth about her past so deep underground that Neal wasn't sure what of herself was really connected to her past. It also helped that she had changed her name the moment she turned eighteen and left home.

"She's turned up. Well, I shouldn't say turned up. Her signature did on.. well you won't believe this, of all things-" this time Neal cut off Peter.

"Let me guess, a guitar? Or maybe it was a record? Or maybe it was Jon Bon Jovi's jeans from his first tour?" Neal smirked at the suddenly unamused expression on Peter's face.

"It was a guitar. How did you know?"

"She always had a thing for Rock and Roll. Never much understood it myself." Neal shrugged, and then sighed going back to worrying his hat brim. "But that's impossible, she quit. And Blackbird is one of those people who when she quits she quits for good. She went completely off the grid, sold everything she had, went civilian last I heard."

"You talk like you know her personally." Peter quirked a brow looking down at the petite good looking red haired woman in the picture. Yeah, he could see that. This broad and Neal. He could definitely see it. She was beautiful, no doubt, with sharp striking features. And those eyes, they were killer, a deep ocean blue with depths that looked like they'd seen the world and understood it quite well while still maintaining a childlike curiosity.

"Again, correction, knew her personally. Yeah, we were close, once." Neal said in a quiet thoughtful voice. His mind was already drifting far and fast to a place where Peter would never really understand. Peter understood Neal's love of Kate in some morbid mixed up way. But he'd never be able to understand the way Neal had loved Blackbird. Blackbird was his first love, the first woman who'd had enough sense to tell him to take his charming smile and compliments and shove 'em. He remembered it still, very clearly, the day he'd met her. He was in a museum, something he often did so as to scope out prospective pieces. She was there too, doing the same thing. Her hair was cropped in a short pixie like cut then, and that alone had Neal intrigued. What woman cut her hair like that? Well a hell of one, was the answer. So he'd immediately known he had to know her, even if he'd never see her again, he had to know her. He'd gone up to her with the most suave charming smile he could muster stretched across his face.

"I don't date men," the girl answered without even turning to look at him. She'd only seen him out of the corner of her eye, but she obviously knew what he was after. Neal, of course had been taken aback. How could such an attractive woman not date men?

"Excuse me," he'd sputtered trying to regain his footing as the smile slowly slipped from his face.

"You heard me, I don't date men. Now buzz off." She used one delicate little hand to make a shooing motion as her eyes remained firmly planted on the Van Gough before her.

"Then what do you date," he asked finally regaining his footing, and thinking this was a game of some sort.

"I don't date anyone. Now seriously off with you. I have work to do, and you're distracting me." Her blue eyes had never left the painting, and he wondered if she even cared what he looked like. All that seemed to matter was that she was not interested. But Neal Caffery had never been deterred, and would not be then by that small spit of a woman.

"You can't just not date anyone. You have to date someone. You could date women, men, both. But you have to date someone." Alright, so he thought this was some sort of cat and mouse game. He'd bite.

"Look," she said finally turning her ocean blue eyes on him set in a firm glare, "I don't have time for your nonsense. I don't know who you are-"

"Neal, my name is Neal," he cut her to the quick.

"Right, well Neal, as you say. I don't really care who you are. I'm busy, and you're interrupting. Now, be gone." She made the shooing motion again with her hands.

"Can't I get a name? I gave you mine, I mean really you can't be so pretty and lack the basic necessity of manners."

"It's Maria, now be off." She rolled her eyes, and turned back to the painting. Neal thought himself quite high and mighty at getting a name from her, what he didn't know until weeks later was that she was a liar, and that wasn't her real name. It was weeks later outside the same museum and there she stood angry. "You," she pointed at him as she saw him approaching.

"Me?" Neal asked immediately getting defensive at the rather aggressive posture the woman was sporting, and the rather angry glare her eyes were set in.

"Yes you, you Neal, you. You took my painting. I know you did. I saw your signature, you moron. You took my painting." She was coming at him now, and damn did she ever look fine when she was angry.

"Let's talk about this elsewhere." He grabbed 'Maria's' wrist and drug her half way across town to a little hole in the wall bar. She didn't fight the entire time, and he was actually surprised that such an angry little spitfire wouldn't at least protest. "Now what's this about a painting?" His tone was hushed as he sat in a booth in one of the darker back corners of the bar.

"The Van Gough, you took it. That was my mark, and you swiped it right from under my nose. Then left your cheeky little signature at the bottom." She ground out her finger drumming angrily on the wooden table.

"Wait, you're saying you were going to steal it?"

"I was. And you're a poor forger. I would have done a much better job. It's clearly a fake, anyone with half a brain can see that. Now just cough up my painting." She demanded holding out her hand like he'd be able to give it to her right then and there.

"What?" His voice raised several octaves as his eyes moved around nervously. Had the replacement really been that poor? He didn't think so. If so then how had this woman known? And who was she? If they were both thieves then they ran in the same circles, and he had to have seen her work.

"You heard me, my painting. Cough it up," she demanded again. Neal frowned.

"I don't have it here. Look I have it stored, but I'll give you the address of my apartment, and you can meet me there later and I'll give it to you." Neal couldn't think straight he was so flustered by the woman. Her eyes narrowed on him, and then she nodded seeming to decide he was being honest.

"Right, well I'll see you 'round eight then. Name's Chelsey." She offered and then she was gone. And that's when Neal realized she was a liar. He wondered idly if she gave him another fake name on purpose. Maybe she wanted him to know she was a liar. Whatever the reason he was left puzzled, and confused. He called up Mozz the moment he got back to his apartment. But he heard nothing more of 'Chelsey' for two months.

Neal shook himself from the memory, and frowned a little. "What were you saying Peter?"

"Well I asked how well you know this broad," Peter repeated slightly miffed that Neal seemed to be in his own little world.

"How well can you really know a compulsive lying thief? I guess I knew her as best as anyone ever has. I tell you Pete she isn't your girl for this. Blackbird wouldn't get caught. Sure, stealing a guitar is her style. But she quit, and went straight. She isn't your girl." Neal shook his head with a frown. He never understood why Blackbird went straight exactly, but he knew there had to have been a reason. And he thought it had something to do with him. She'd gone straight just after she'd left him.

"Maybe she got rusty in the five years she's been out of the game. Maybe she got sloppy. Maybe she wants people to know she's back. Maybe a lot of things. Either way her signature was on this fake, and you're going to be the one to prove it was her." Peter said holding up a very recent photograph of Blackbird. Neal had to restrain himself from snatching the photograph from Peter and examining it more closely. He hadn't seen the woman in five years, and not much had changed about her. She looked a little more mature, and her hair was much longer, but nothing else had changed.

"That's Blackbird. But I swear to you, this isn't her." The brim of his hat had become rather flat as he continued to worry it in between his finger. "And I'll prove she's not your girl. I'll prove she's on the straight and narrow. She's not the type of girl to change her mind once she decides to do something."

"Fine you prove it. I've got a meeting with her tonight at eight. You can come along, maybe she'll talk to you." With that Neal was dismissed. But Neal didn't go to his desk to work on his paper work, like he should have. No instead he trotted right back out that door he'd come in, and right back home to make a call to Mozz. If Blackbird was in town he needed to know where she was staying, and what name she was hiding under. He needed to know everything. Mozz would be the one to know, if anyone would know. But Neal had a sinking feeling no one would be able to keep track of a woman like Blackbird when she didn't want to be found.

An hour later found Neal and Mozz sitting at his kitchen table. "She's back? Really? Blackbird? She was the best of the best. Better than you even," Mozz sputtered on in some kind of morbid admiration. He'd always had a weird crush on Blackbird, even when Neal was seeing her.

"I know Mozz, but that's not what I need to know. What I need to know is where is she, and what alias is she under?" Neal's voice sounded desperate even to himself. He hadn't felt this desperate about Kate, even, especially recently.

"Oh you know I can't track her down Neal. No one ever could. I mean you kept tabs on her pretty well while she let you, but you know as well as I do that when she wants to disappear she does. And she wanted to disappear. She fell completely off the grid." Mozz frowned a little. There was only one woman who could get Neal more worked up than Kate, and it was Blackbird. That woman had been Neal's particular brand of poison, even more so than Kate. She was a thief, and despite her compulsive lying she had a kind of honesty in her eyes that you could always tell she was genuine. She was good to the core, just like Neal. She just didn't know any other way of going about living her life. Last Mozz had heard about her, she had a kid, but he'd never told Neal that. It would ruin the poor man to know that his first love had up and run off with someone else. It was bad enough he was dealing with this Kate thing, whatever it was.

"It's just so weird. Why would someone drag her up now? Why would they want to peg her for this? It's not even like the guitar is worth a lot. They could peg her for something more expensive. And who would want to frame her? She's not bothering anyone, she's completely off grid." Neal's fingers were running nervously through his hair as he tried to think. He was finding it impossible to think of anything but the past. That day 'Chelsey' left him in the bar it wasn't until he'd run into her at another museum elsewhere that he saw her again. And oh how she'd smiled and talked like they were old friends. Well, while people were looking. She didn't want anyone to know she was scoping out the place, and she didn't want him to cause a scene lest security get a good look at her. She'd given him a different name that time, Lucy. He knew that wasn't right either, she didn't look like a Lucy. But he let it slide. These run ins continued for a year before anything really substantial happened. Mozz, and he had figured out she was a thief known commonly as Blackbird, but nothing else. That's how he knew that the painting he had been scoping out had already been taken, and she'd left a calling card. It seemed she wanted him to find her, and she knew only he'd catch on. And so he found himself in the lobby of the Benjamin in a chair just hoping for a glimpse of the woman who had alluded him for a year.

"Neal," she grinned easily as she walked in the front door dressed in a pair of ballet flats, tights, and a dress straight from the 1920's. That was when Neal knew he was in love, that flapper dress had him hooked. Of course over the year of run ins a strange familiarity had developed. They were friends, sort of.

"Sarah," He grinned just as easily opening his arms, and expecting her to play along and walk into a hug. A hug that he will admit was too short, and gave away too much. He felt something strange for the petite woman in the strange get up with the compulsive necessity to lie constantly.

"Come on up to my room, the lobby is hardly a place for old friends to catch up." And so he followed her up several floors to a small unassuming room at the end of the hall. If she was as good as Mozz said she was, then she could afford a penthouse suite, but that would look too suspicious. She held the door for him, and then offered him a drink, which he graciously accepted. "So I see you found my mark. I guess you think you have me all figured out then?"

"No, I still don't know your real name. It's not any of the ones you've given me. What I have figured out is that you're probably my only true rival in our business, and it'd do me a great amount of good to get better acquainted with you." Neal had been nervous, alone with the only woman who could out do him, with a bed in such close proximity. Well, it was nerve-wracking.

"Oh that's such a shame. Here I thought you'd been drawn in by my charm and good looks," There was a playful smirk playing across her painted red lips that not even Neal could mistake. He may have been nervous, and oblivious, but he knew that look.

"Well I must say those helped at first, but I wouldn't have nearly the respect I have for you now had you not outshone me in my own field. And lord, do I respect you." His throat felt impossibly dry, and he'd licked his lips twenty times in the course of those lines. It all went up hill from there, and then drastically down hill. The following morning he woke up with a note on the night stand. There was a little blackbird drawn on it, and in perfectly curvy scrawl were the words 'I'll see you'. Yes, he was hooked. And he couldn't wait from that moment on for that woman to find him again. He knew he'd never find her, but she'd find him. He could only hope it'd be soon.

"Neal, you need to stop getting that dreamy look, people will think you've gone bonkers," Mozz said jabbing him in the arm with his short stubby finger.

"Right, sorry. I just can't help but think about her. I thought I'd gotten past it."

"You'll never get past her. She was your rival, and your match in every way. You never thought she'd be back, so you allowed yourself to fall for Kate. But you never quite got over her. All of us knew it, even Kate. Kate hated her for it." Mozz frowned a little. He could remember the angry look in Kate's eyes any time the song Blackbird would so much as come on the radio. She was jealous, and bitter that that woman would always hold a piece of Neal she never would. But as far as Mozz could see Kate had only wanted the good life. She wanted the things Blackbird had, not the problems she dealt with. Kate had never wanted Neal for just Neal. Which was what Blackbird had always wanted, as was evident by the fact that she was able to set him free when she had to.

"You know, I saw the list of aliases the FBI has for her. None of them are her real name, and even that name isn't the name she was born with." He remembered the night she'd told him her name. It had been two years into their relationship, and they had started getting serious. She would stay with him for lengths of time, and she'd even let him stay with her sometimes. It was very clear she had trust problems. But somehow Neal had managed to get her to trust him. They were laying in bed in her apartment, and he asked in the calmest quietest voice almost like a prayer being whispered into the air in hopes it'd get an answer. And that's when she rolled over to face him, her eyes set very seriously.

"My name is Scarlett. Scarlett Saxton Smith. I was born a Smith. I changed it to Linton when I turned eighteen." With that she kissed him soundly, and he held her as close to him as he could. He could tell from that moment on that she trusted him completely. Her name was something she held close to her chest. Even when she'd befriended Kate she'd never told Kate her real name. Kate only knew her nickname which was Blackbird. Neal'd decided to take to calling her that instead of Scarlett just in case. He didn't want her to lose the one thing she seemed to protect with everything she had, her anonymity. He respected her for it. Mozz didn't even know her real name, only Neal. He was the only one she trusted completely. The only one she was willing to give her name to.

"She may go by her real name now, since no one knew it," Mozz was saying as Neal came back to the present.

"I knew it. And she didn't want me to find her." If he didn't know better Mozz would think Neal actually looked sad at the thought. Like maybe he'd lost something instead of gained it when Blackbird had left him to Kate. That was encouraging. Especially since Mozz had a sneaking suspicion Kate was not the woman she always pretended to be.

"Yes, but you'd never tell another person it so they could find her. You could tell me it, and maybe I could hunt her down." Alright, so maybe Mozz just wanted to know the name behind the great woman. Well, then he thought maybe it wouldn't be so exciting. Half the excitement behind Blackbird was that no one really knew who she was, except Neal. No one really knew where she came from, or where she was going.

"No," Neal said firmly. "She trusted me with it, and I'd never betray her trust. Besides, I'll see her tonight. Peter set up a meeting with her."

"How did Peter find her," it was a valid question, but it earned him a confused look from Neal.

"I don't know, I guess through his FBI guys. I'm sure they keep tabs on people like her, they sure did on me. At least until we slip up just once and they can actually pin something on us. Maybe I can get her to come by for some coffee or something tonight. We should catch up." Neal drifted off in thought again, as did Mozz. They sat that way for quite some time, neither really sure how long. But each seemed to have a lot to think about. A person like Blackbird just popping back up was kind of strange, and disconcerting, and puzzling. "Well I guess I should get ready," Neal said finally hours later. "What should I wear?"

"Are you serious? The great Neal Caffery nervous about meeting a girl? No, no this will not do." Mozz tutted with a good natured smile. "Come on Neal, where is that good old confidence we all know and love?"

"As you'll recall, she didn't really fall for that suave thing. She kind of liked her men a bit more vulnerable." Neal smirked putting his fedora on his head.

"You mean she liked to be on top," Mozz joked which earned him a whack in the arm with a felted black fedora. "Alright, alright I'll help you pick something to wear. Jeez preening like a peacock, and worrying about what a girl will think. I don't know what happened to the Neal Caffery I knew."

"His ex came back in town and threatened to turn his world upside down again. I think I'd let her if she asked me." He was examining himself in the mirror, and Mozz rolled his eyes.

"You know you would, don't try to sound tough now. You'd let that girl tie you in a tree and pick your pockets if she chose. Now let's get you all dolled up for your date." Neal and Mozz spent at least an hour bickering and fighting over what to wear. Finally Neal was settled in a black suit, a blue tie that 'brought out his eyes' (Mozzie's words not his own), and a black fedora. He stood at the door of the bar fidgeting uselessly. Oh if only he hadn't given up smoking all those years ago at Scarlett's request, he'd have something to do with his hands while he waited for Peter. He wondered if this bar was picked because of it's proximity to his current residence. And if that was the case then who's idea was it, Peter's or Scarlett's? Well, hell, thoughts like that just weren't helping his nerves. He straightened his suit again, and bit his nail (something he usually never did).

"Nervous are we Neal," asked Peter as he walked up, an overly eager smile on his face. "You look like you're about to be executed."

"If you knew her, you'd be nervous too." Neal said in an overly fidgety tone. Peter quirked a brow and wondered to himself what it was about this girl that got Neal so worked up. Sure, she was beautiful. But Neal had been with a number of beautiful women, and this one was surely less beautiful than some of the models he'd been with. Sure, she was a thief. A thief that by record was more successful than Neal himself. That only had to warrant respect, not this kind of odd behavior.

"She must really be something special."

"You have no idea," was all Neal could answer waiting impatiently for the ok to go in.

"More special than Kate," Peter asked causing Neal to stop short as he reached for the door handle.

"Peter, you won't understand this much as I think you married your first love, but a man can really love more than one woman. I loved Blackbird first. She left me, just up and disappeared, and Kate was there to pick up the pieces. But as Mozz will attest, I never really got over the first. Sure, I found someone else, but I never really got over it. There was no closure. Just gone. And, lord, was she something else. You'd have to know her to get it." With that Neal opened the door, and walked as casually as he possibly could into the bar. Peter was close behind, but he just shook his head at what Neal had said. Nothing Neal said ever made much sense, but this made even less sense than most things. Neal was already headed toward the petite redhead sitting cross legged at the bar in a peasant dress with flowers pinned into her long hair. Well, that made sense. A girl who liked to dress out of period, and she was the one Neal was so nervous about. Peter hung back, finding himself a table close enough to listen but not too close so it looked like he was listening.

"Neal," the woman said not turning to look at him.

"You know, this meeting is strangely reminiscent of a few of our others. Especially your way of greeting," Neal tried to smirk, but found it giving way to a nervous laugh as the woman before him merely pursed her lips. She didn't look one bit amused, and Neal couldn't really blame her. They weren't meeting again on the best terms, and after the worst possible parting. Neal sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, before ordering a drink and taking up residence on the barstool beside Scarlett.

"What does the FBI want with me Neal? I'm clean, I've been clean for five years. I got out." She sounded tired in a way that Neal had never heard before. This wasn't the good tired, like when they were laying in bed at night and she was falling asleep on his chest. This was the kind of tired where she was stressed, and worried, and really didn't have time for nonsense.

"They think you stole a guitar. I tried to tell Peter you were out of the game. I told him once you quit something you didn't decide to go back to it. But it had your signature on it Birdie." He took a slow sip of his drink trying to avert his eyes from her, but finding it impossible. He just couldn't believe she was here, right in front of him. So close he could reach out and touch her. All that separated him from being with her again was his inability to convince her that that's what was best. But then he'd never been able to convince her of anything. She always had to come around to it in her own time. She was obstinate like that.

"Then someone is trying to frame me for it, get me put away. You have to do something," she turned to him finally with something akin to hope in her eyes. Before him sat a woman who knew she was in trouble, and was hoping to whatever deity she believed in that he'd help her out of it. He had a chance to be the white knight. He had a chance to prove his worth, to prove he still loved her. He had a chance.

"I..." He started then stopped, and wore on his lip nervously. Could he really promise her something he wasn't sure he could hold up his end on? What if he failed? What if she was put away? That'd be terrible. "I'll do my best," he finished lamely with a frown. She nodded and they fell into silence. But Neal couldn't let them stay in silence. He had to say something. He had to do something. There were so many questions running through his head. So many things he needed to know. "Why did you leave?"

"There are two parts to that answer," She almost whispered, and he frowned. Scarlett loved riddles, and puzzles, and confusion. And since she obviously didn't want him to know the whole of it she wasn't going to tell him. "One part you should ask your precious Kate about." It came out a little bitter, and he knew he saw hurt hidden under all those layers of lies. She was upset he'd moved on, and he didn't know why. But he needed to know.

"What about Kate," He asked reflexively, and then regretted it when he saw a deep scowl play easily on her pale lips.

"She's not everything she pretends to be Neal. She's the worst kind of crook, a dishonest one. She'll make you believe she loves you, and rob you blind. But then I don't have to tell you that do I? You know don't you? I heard she left you, robbed you blind while you were in jail." She must have caught the surprised look on his face because she bit her lip and sighed. "Yes, I kept track of you. You should know by now Neal, just because you can't see me doesn't mean I'm not there." She touched his hand lightly, and it sent a shiver up his arm. His hair was standing on end in seconds, and then he remembered exactly the effect she'd always had on him. But what killed him was that she'd always kept an eye on him. She'd cared enough to keep watch, and what had he done for her? He'd given up, and moved on. That's why she was hurt, and she had every reason to be. "Don't worry about it Neal." She whispered lightly near his ear, and another shiver went up his spine.

"I'm sorry," was all he could muster, but he meant it. They sat for a little while, her hand resting easily on his on the bar, and he refusing to look away for fear she'd disappear again. "And the second part?"

"Ask your FBI buddy. I'm sure he has everything about me on file." With that she kissed his cheek. Neal closed his eyes trying to savor and remember the feel of those lips on his cheek. Just those. When he opened his eyes again, she was gone. The napkin under his glass now read 'I'll see you', and beside it was drawn a little bird.

"Not if I see you first Birdie," He said quietly stuffing the napkin into his pocket before Peter could see it.

"Where did she go," Peter demanded charging up to the bar. "A waitress got in my way, and when she moved the girl was gone. Where is she?"

"She's not your girl Peter. She's still out of the game." His voice was quiet and slow. He was still trying to process everything Scarlett had said. Still trying to get the goosebumps to flatten out on his skin. But then he didn't want to for fear it'd be like she was never there.

"Oh God Neal, you promised to help clear her didn't you," Peter's voice was raised in that angry sort of way that Neal knew all too well. He merely nodded.


	2. Vincent Van Gough

Neal spent the next two days running over every minute of his meeting with Scarlett. He was looking for any little sign, any little notion that she could have been leaving him. But Scarlett had never been like Kate, she didn't leave messages hardly ever. There had only been a handful of times when she had. But the thing that bothered him the most was what she'd said about Kate, and what the FBI knew about her. She'd left him for some reason, a good reason. And Peter knew, but Peter had been avoiding the question since the meeting. Neal had this feeling nagging at him that this was something Peter didn't think he could handle. So Neal found himself in Peter's chair with his feet on Peter's desk very early in the morning. Peter walked in and frowned at the man behind his desk. "What do you want Neal?"

"I want to know what she meant. You heard her, about you knowing half the reason she left. Tell me." Alright so Neal wasn't in the mood to beat around the bush. That was fine, but Peter still was clearly hesitating. There was something about the look on Peter's face that let Neal know that he knew a hell of a lot more about Scarlett than he was letting on.

"I really think she should tell you this," the older man said uncertainly sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk. "It's really personal."

"It's Blackbird. She's a compulsive liar, she'll never tell me. I'd have to pin her down and torture her to get it out of her. And as much as I'd enjoy that, I don't think she'd let me get that close, especially not now. Come on Peter, I can handle it." Peter seemed to nod to himself, and leant forward on his desk keeping eye contact with Neal as he prepped himself to give the news he knew would turn Neal's already confusing world on it's head.

Scarlett came home from a bit of shopping, and very nearly immediately left again. For when she walked into her small loft in SoHo she found something not quite right. No, she'd never been especially neat, and it had become much harder to keep the place clean after she left Neal. But she could tell when something was wrong. "Someone has been here," she whispered to herself. And with that bags were packed and she was gone again. She knew better to stick around where someone could find you. She was across town within a half hour, and on a doorstep she'd never once darkened before. But she knew the place well, it came with keeping tabs on Neal. She knocked as politely as knocking could possibly allow.

"Can I help you," a dark haired woman asked as she answered the door looking at her strangely. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"I'm sorry Mrs. Burke, I wouldn't have come here if I thought I was safe in my own home. But I'm not. Can I come in and talk?" Scarlett asked her eyes shifting nervously around her. She felt like everyone on the sidewalk was watching them, and she didn't like it. She didn't like being paranoid. She'd never once in her life been paranoid. She'd been good enough to keep her head down enough so no one could find her. But now someone had found her, and she needed to find a safe harbor.

"Um, I don't know," Elizabeth said nervously wearing on her lip. Since Mozz had 'debugged' the place she felt nervous about letting anyone else in. After all what if they were someone just looking to bug the place again. Someone was trying to find something out from Peter and Neal, and she needed to protect them as best she could.

"Mama," a little voice came from behind the woman at the door. As a small dark head peaked around the woman's legs to stare up at Elizabeth she stopped dead in her tracks. She may not know this woman, but she knew who's child that was.

"Vincent, what have we talked about? Don't interrupt mommy while she's talking," Scarlett said quietly as her eyes averted from Elizabeth to look down at the little boy. She wouldn't normally have used his name, but she knew all about how Neal had become a family member of sorts to these people. And if he could trust them then so could she.

"But mama, I want," his blue eyes went calculating for a long moment. Elizabeth damn near melted at the spitting image of Neal that the boy was. "Up," he said finally. Scarlett sighed but scooped him up anyways.

"As I was saying, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't necessary. Can we please come in? I don't really want anyone to see us." Her voice was so sincere, and her face so open. Elizabeth relented instantly, and she stepped back to let the woman and her child into her home. There was something about the woman's eyes. They were so like Neal's, they were honest, sincere, and good. Something that you'd never expect to see on a thief, but Elizabeth had learned easily from Neal that just because you were a thief didn't mean you were a bad person. Elizabeth led the two in to the table.

"Please have a seat," She offered, and the woman nodded before sitting her son in a seat, and then sitting beside him. "Do you want some coffee? Or tea? Or milk?"

"Milk," Vincent chimed up his eyes twinkling as they grew wide and he grinned at Elizabeth.

"Vincent," Scarlett chided, and he looked up at her his brows crinkling in confusion. "Manners."

"Pwease. Milk pwease," Vincent corrected with a firm nod, and charming smile.

"I'll just have some water, thank you," Scarlett answered when Elizabeth turned her eyes on her. Elizabeth nodded, and went off to the kitchen to retrieve their drinks. When she returned she found Vincent scribbling away in a coloring book, and his mother hovering over him whispering instructions in his ear. Elizabeth stilled for a moment just watching them. The woman had to be a little younger than Neal, but not by much. Neal himself was a few years younger than herself and Peter. And watching the woman with her child Elizabeth could almost feel her biological clock ticking. She shook it off, and sat the drinks before them.

"Fank you," Vincent chimed up. His mother pulled a straw from her bag, and put it in his milk, bending it so he could reach it easier.

"Can't be too prepared," the woman laughed lightly, and frowned at Vincent when he started blowing bubbles in his milk. He stopped immediately when she frowned at him, and Elizabeth hoped to hell her children were this well behaved.

"So, care to explain," Elizabeth asked sitting across from the younger woman.

"I don't usually tell anyone anything. I'm kind of a liar, as I'm sure your husband will tell you when he finds out I've been here, or am here, or whatever. But I swear to you this is the truth. I'm Scarlett Linton, or as I was more charmingly referred to in Neal and I's profession, Blackbird." Scarlett explained looking nervous about merely giving away this much. She'd never told anyone her real name, aside from Neal. She just had never found someone she trusted enough for it. But Neal trusted these people, and she knew Neal didn't give away his trust lightly either. Well, so long as it wasn't someone like Kate. No, we won't go there.

"Oh, Peter told me about that case. He said it hit home for Neal. He didn't really say much more, but I could tell by the way Neal looked so frazzled that it hit home harder than Peter was letting on." Elizabeth's eyes lit with recognition, and she smiled lightly. This case had come up a few days ago, and Peter had told her only a bit about it. But the way Neal looked when he showed up was what let her know that he was taking this one hard. He wasn't his usual clean shaven, suave self, instead he was scruffy, jittery, nervous, and fidgety. And if you knew Neal, then you knew that wasn't like him.

"I assume he did look frazzled. But he probably looked no where near as frazzled as he will be when he finds out what else is in that hand dandy file folder your hubby has on me. You see about nine years ago I met Neal at a museum. As I told you, I was a thief myself. I was looking at a Vincent Van Gough piece when we met, and I gave him the brush off. But two thieves with taste like our's, well we kept running into each other. Finally I relented a little, and left him a calling card. It took several months for him to get that from me though. Sure, before that we flirted, and bantered, and bickered, and it was fun. But we'd kind of become friends, and I don't know it was weird, I had this strange urge to see him, alone." Elizabeth listened intently to Scarlett's story her eyes never leaving her face. She could detect nothing but honesty in her eyes. "So like I said, I left him my calling card on a painting I knew he had already marked to swipe. He'd stolen one from under my nose once, and I felt it was justice. Well, you know Neal, he found my signature on it and was somehow able to figure from it where I was staying. He wouldn't have been able to figure that out if I hadn't allowed him to, mind you. A little while later when I walked into my hotel, he was there in the lobby. Things kind of took off from there." She cleared her throat and Elizabeth followed her eyes to Vincent.

"Well then what," Elizabeth said displeased with the end of the story. That wasn't the end, and she knew it, it was only the beginning. And she was finding this bit of Neal's past that Peter didn't know much about, insanely interesting.

Scarlett sighed and ran her fingers through her long wavy red hair. "Well things escalated. It took time, I don't trust people very easily. In fact the only reason I'm here is because I've kept tabs on Neal. I know he trusts you, and your husband. And I know Mozz has been by and debugged the place. If I had any other choice, other than picking up and running, I wouldn't be here. That's neither here nor there," another sigh passed her pale lips, and Elizabeth found herself insanely interested in this woman. She was as interesting if not more than Neal. Her eyes held secrets. This was the kind of woman who'd seen the world and lived to tell the tale. The kind of woman who'd come from something much less than desirable and made something of herself. "The point is, I grew to trust him. I even told him my real name, which is not something I'd ever done before. Well, about five years ago I found I'd missed a.." she drifted looking down at Vincent. "Well you know," she finished, and Elizabeth nodded in understanding. "So I had only a handful of choices. I could tell Neal, and see what his reaction was. Which I'm sure if you know him in the least you know it probably wouldn't have been good. I could take care of it myself, but I couldn't really bring myself to do that, I was already attached. Or I could make a break for it. Ultimately it was a friend of our's, Kate who made the decision for me. I – well let's just say she wasn't the kindest person when she found out about it, and she fed on my insecurities." Elizabeth was nodding along. She didn't know Kate so she had no real reason to find this offensive. And she also knew how women could be with other women, so she understood. "So I bolted. Went home, and some months later there came little Vincent."

"Then we moved back hewe," Vincent added in. "Mama woves da city."

"I can understand that," Elizabeth said smiling at the little boy. "Well, that makes sense. Does Neal know yet?"

"If he doesn't yet, then he will soon. I told him to ask Peter. I - I just couldn't tell him. He'd be furious, and scared. He's such a child deep down, and I knew it would scare him senseless." Scarlett was wearing on her pale lip.

"Yes, Neal is... well I think Peter best described him when he called him Peter Pan," Elizabeth frowned a little. She liked Neal, and all, but she could see how someone would be afraid to tell him that he had a kid. He'd probably run to the furthest, most crowded city he could find, and never return. So she could see why a woman who'd accidentally gotten herself pregnant with Neal's kid would make a break for it before he could.

"Then he hasn't changed much. That's who he always reminded me of." Scarlett snorted, and Vincent looked up at the odd sound, but then shook his little head and went back to coloring. "I never thought I'd see him again," she whispered more to herself than to Elizabeth as she chewed on her fingernail.

"But then this case landed on Peter's desk," Elizabeth finished knowingly, and Scarlett nodded. "Have you spoken to Neal yet?"

"Yes, actually. Peter arranged a meeting a few days back in a bar. Well, I picked the bar. But Neal showed up instead of your husband, and I talked to him." She went silent and frowned at the memory of the night.

"And? How did it go?"

"It could have gone better. But then what else is to be expected when you have to talk to your ex about a FBI investigation that he and his partner are doing on you?" They both sighed a little at the seemingly hopeless situation Scarlett seemed to be in.

"What are they trying to get you for?"

"Someone stole a guitar, and put my signature on the replacement. But when I had Vincent I sold off everything. I partitioned some of it into a college fund, and the rest of it went into an off shore account. I've been living on it, but I've stayed clean. We live modestly, and I don't steal anymore. I don't think your husband believes me, but Neal seems to." Scarlett frowned a little. Peter not believing her was going to be half the battle. Because if both of them weren't in on trying to clear her then she'd be completely lost.

"I believe you. And I'll talk to Peter. In fact, I'll talk to him right now." And before Scarlett could stop her the other woman was up from the table and heading back to the kitchen to retrieve the phone.

Peter had broken the news to Neal hours ago, and the man was still sitting dumbfounded in his office. He hadn't reacted any other way yet, other than quiet and shock. What could you expect? When you found out that you'd been a father for four years and a number of months, and hadn't even known it, that kind of hit you hard. He thought about telling Neal it wasn't the end of the world, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bring himself to regard the young conman with the usual slightly bitter tone. Neal was dealing with this, the best way he knew how. Peter sighed, and both men jumped visibly when his phone started ringing loudly on his desk. "Shit," Peter muttered grabbing it off the receiver and holding it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Peter," Elizabeth's voice came from the other end, and she was using that tone. That I can't believe you, and you're idiocy tone. He was not in the mood for this.

"Yes," He asked trying to sound as if maybe he was in a good mood. It'd do no good to snap at Elizabeth and end up sleeping on the couch.

"You will never guess who showed up on my doorstep not but an hour ago," Elizabeth said with something like annoyance and glee in her voice. Peter couldn't tell which was the predominant emotion, but he prayed it was Glee.

"You're right I probably won't. So you should just tell me." Alright, so he was in a bad mood, and this probably wasn't the best time to come at him with this. Elizabeth knew that. She knew her husband too well, but that didn't mean she was going to let up on him now.

"The Blackbird," She supplied with something like a smirk in her voice.

"Blackbird is at my house?"

"Mhm."

"What is she doing," he asked already grabbing his coat and shaking Neal before pointing at Neal's coat. He instructed him with his hands to get ready to go.

"Well she's sitting here watching her son color, and chatting with me. What do women normally do when they go to visit friends?" Elizabeth asked as if it were obvious, even though she knew this would annoy him.

"Friends? Elle, that woman is a thief. I hope you're watching her, making sure she's not walking off with our fine china. You keep here there, Neal and I will be there in … fifteen." With that he hung up, and Elizabeth frowned a little. She did not like the way Peter talked about Scarlett. Like she was a common criminal. This woman was not a common criminal, she was a mother, and a person. And she deserved to be respected as such. But she also felt immensely pleased with herself. She'd planned to get Neal over here, and he was well on his way. When she returned to Scarlett at the table they talked about the phone conversation, Elizabeth conveniently left out that Peter and Neal were on their way. Then they talked about Vincent, and what Elizabeth did for work. Scarlett talked about getting a job herself, and Elizabeth thought maybe it'd be good if she came to work with her. After all if she had the same kind of taste Neal had then she'd be an asset.

And then the door burst open and in walked an irate … Neal? Elizabeth had been expecting Peter to be the first through the door, but it seemed like Neal had beat him to the punch. She was up in seconds and standing in front of him to keep him from going in swinging at the woman at her table. "Where is she Elizabeth," He shouted. Elizabeth took a step back, she'd never seen Neal like this. He didn't get angry, never.

"She, has a name," Scarlett said appearing from the dinning room, and frowning at him. "And she would appreciate it if you'd not yell in front of her child." Vincent was tucked safely behind her legs, peaking out at Neal with a frightened expression, but Neal didn't see him. He only saw Scarlett, and the stern expression on her face. That expression made him even more angry. How could she not tell him, and then expect him to be calm about it?

"Why didn't you tell me," He practically shouted. Peter shut the door behind him so the whole neighborhood didn't hear the fighting.

"Elizabeth, do you have a spare room where Vincent can take his nap," Scarlett asked ignoring Neal, and picking up the little boy hiding behind her legs.

"But mama, I not tired," Vincent complained rubbing his eyes.

"I know you're not. But mommy needs to deal with this loud obnoxious man, so I think it'd be best if you went upstairs with Miss Elizabeth." Scarlett said in a soothing motherly tone. Elizabeth took that as her cue.

"Come on big guy. You can lay up in my big bed, and watch TV." She took the little boy from his mother, and chatted with him the whole way up the stairs about what he wanted to watch on TV. Neal watched the proceedings with a gaping mouth.

"Shut your trap Neal, you'll catch flies." Scarlett said finally over her shoulder as she returned to the table to clean up Vincent's things, and sit back down.

"Is that him," Neal asked. Peter had somehow slipped into the background of what was going on, not that he minded. He appreciated the chance to observe Blackbird when she was so clearly unguarded. And he had to say, he was enjoying seeing Neal so flustered.

"That, is Vincent," She corrected with a frown. "And yes, if by him you're referring to the son Peter, I'm sure, told you about, that's him."

"Is he really Neal's," Peter asked taking a seat at the head of the table. Scarlett settled into her seat, and Neal just stood watching her calm face in shock. How could she be so calm? Shouldn't she be angry? Shouldn't she be yelling? Shouldn't she be something, anything other than calm? After all she left him, and then he forgot about her. He betrayed her memory by giving up looking for her so quickly. She should be angry with him. He'd feel much better about the whole of it if she'd just be angry with him. He'd feel so much better if she'd glare at him, and yell back, and cut him with those beautiful eyes. Ah, but Scarlett had never gotten angry. As much as Neal didn't get angry, Scarlett got angry even less. Even when they fought, and she should be angry with him she never was. He would yell, sometimes, but she never would. She always remained calm, and logical. And for once in the course of the time he'd known her he found it serenely frustrating instead of calming as he used to.

Scarlett quirked a brow at Peter, but Neal's eyes remained trained on her face. "Well, legally speaking Vincent hasn't a father. On the line on his birth certificate where it should say Neal's name the line is terribly blank." There was a hint of regret in her voice that Neal caught, and he frowned a little. It must have been hard for her to tell them that she didn't know who the baby's father was. The looks she must have gotten. The things people must have said about her. It took a lot of courage to have done what she did. "Biologically speaking, if you were to run a blood test you'd find that Vincent is Neal's. So, yes and no."

"Are you sure," Peter asked again. "You weren't sleeping with anyone else at the time?" It was a valid question, or it seemed to be to him. But the look Neal cut him, and the cutting glare which became the woman's eyes told him that they thought it terribly disrespectful to even suggest such a thing.

"I may be a liar, and a thief. But I am not, nor have I ever been a cheater. When I was with Neal, I was only with Neal." Her face was hard, and honest. Neal felt a little relieved to see some emotion other than calm play across her face. It proved she was still human in there somewhere. But she still wasn't doing what he wanted her to. He wanted her to yell at him. Scream at him. Tell him how horrible he was for forgetting about her. Make him feel like the complete and utter ass he'd been.

"As you said, you're a liar. Why should we believe you," Peter asked calmly. The man at the end of the table steepled his fingers and ignored the abashed look Blackbird was giving him. He had to be sure. He couldn't just let her run around and make Neal feel like he should be responsible for this kid, and her. It would cloud his judgement. It would make their job harder. And Peter would not put his friend through that. Neal didn't need that kind of nonsense in his life. The poor man was already trying to deal with this Kate thing. Peter doubted if he could process anymore women in his life at this point. Especially ones willing to use him to help themselves.

"You know what, that's fine. If you don't believe me I'll deal with this myself. I came here for help. I'm in trouble. I didn't come to be lectured about my questionable methods and morals from when I was younger. So if all I'm going to get is this, then," She stood and grabbed her bags, "I'll just take my son and be off."

Neal glared sharply at Peter. "No, Birdie," Neal said grabbing her arm. Scarlett looked down at his hand on her arm, and then back up at him. With a slight nod she put her bags down again.

"Fine," Peter grumbled lightly and motioned for her to sit back down. Scarlett sat in the seat, and frowned a little at Neal. "You're such a sucker for a pretty face." Neal looked sharply at him, and then back at Scarlett. The anger welled up in his stomach again and he felt his hands shaking.

"Why didn't you tell me," the anger was evident in his voice again, but he kept it at a reasonable volume.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd mind you're tone," Scarlett's tone was slightly saucy and Neal remembered exactly what about Scarlett he'd liked so much. She didn't let things get by her, but at the same time she could still be playful. Had the circumstances been different he would assume this was one of those playful times. But no, this was one of those serious times when that tone meant that she was annoyed with him.

"Sorry," Neal amended his head falling forward in something like shame. Only Scarlett could ever make him feel like a child. She'd always held that power over him. Scarlett nodded, and he continued. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You haven't spoken to Kate then. Well she'll explain everything. She was always so good at talking," Scarlett snorted and shook her head.

"What's his name," Peter asked and Neal looked surprised that he hadn't thought of that question.

"Vincent Jude Linton," it rolled off her tongue easily and Neal smiled. Vincent, as in Vincent Van Gough. As in the painter who brought them together. He couldn't have picked a better name. And Jude, as in Hey Jude, the Beatles song. There was something comforting and consistent about how Scarlett picked names. When she'd changed her name at eighteen she picked Linton because she'd loved Wuthering Heights. Peter found it much less amusing. In fact he found it annoying. This woman was so uncreative. Everything related to the Beatles. What was her obsession with them? Then he remembered, thieves always had strange obsessions with old things. Why should she be any different?

"I like it," Neal said finally nodding to himself. Peter rolled his eyes and looked at Neal like he'd lost his mind.

"Look Neal, I don't have all sorts of time for pleasantries. Like I said, I'm in trouble, real trouble. We need someplace to stay until this whole thing blows over, and I know we're safe at home again." She started to say more but was stopped when Neal raised a finger to insert a question.

"Someone was at you're home," He asked leaning on the back of the chair in front of her. He hadn't seen it before, but he could see the same tired stressed look hidden in her eyes as he'd seen a few nights ago. She was in trouble. His Birdie was in trouble. His son was in trouble. He had to do something.

"I came home today, after some shopping for school clothes with Vincent. He starts kindergarten this year you know. When I came home, things had been moved. I mean the place is always in disarray. You know how I am, I'm not a neat person. But I know where things are. And things had been moved. Vincent and I packed up and came straight here." She nodded to the bags she'd brought with her, two small duffels. It was unusual to see someone who liked dressing the way Scarlett did with so few clothes, but Neal assumed it had more to do with her rush. She'd probably just grabbed some things, stuffed them in her bag and left.

"I'd say you could stay with us," Elizabeth said finally rejoining them and wearing on her lip. She nodded when Scarlett sent her a questioning look that could only be asking if Vincent was asleep. Elizabeth really didn't mind them staying with her and Peter. She actually thought it might be quite nice to have Vincent around, and see how Peter did with kids. But, she also knew that Neal needed to be with his son. Scarlett needed to stay with Neal so that they could resolve whatever left over issues they had.

"No," Peter cut her off before she even got the chance to really offer it. She should have assumed he'd do that. He didn't want a child running around their house. Not that she could blame him really, kids made him a little uncomfortable, and by little she meant exceedingly uncomfortable.

"Then you'll stay with me," Neal said finally with a charming smile. He looked something like himself again at this thought. Scarlett sighed, and ran a hand through her flaming red hair. Neal's smile faded a little when the stressed look didn't fade from her face. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"Right, Neal Caffery on the couch when there is a beautiful woman in his bed. I'll believe that when I see it." Peter said sarcastically, which earned him a frown from Neal.

"He will," Scarlett said finally with a nod looking a little relieved. "Despite what you may think, we're good to our word. Always." They stayed for dinner, upon Elizabeth's insistence. It remained pretty quiet through dinner. There was idle chatter, but nothing material. It seemed like everyone was avoiding hitting the big topics.

When they went to leave Neal grabbed Scarlett and Vincent's bags, they said they're goodbyes, and Peter gave them a lift back to Neal's residence. They pulled up in front of a large house, and Vincent's jaw dropped. "Vincent, you're catching flies," Scarlett chided, and the little boy clapped his jaw shut. "That'a boy bluejay," she purred kissing his cheek.

"Mom," Vincent whined rubbing his cheek roughly. "Embarrassin'" Scarlett only laughed lightly, and shook her head. Neal watched from the front seat. They looked like the perfect little family. He kind of wished he'd been a part of it all these years. But then, he'd have to had gone off the grid like Scarlett did, and he didn't know that he could do that. He wasn't sure that he could just up and quit the business like she did. Despite that, it was comforting to see that they got on so well. Scarlett was a good mother, despite all the years she'd spent as a thief. But then, he'd always known she was a good woman. He'd always known one day she'd make a good mother, a good wife. She'd been good to him when they'd been together. Admittedly she was not a good house keeper, and not that great a cook. But she could bake, and she cared.

"Right, well come on," Neal said shaking himself from his revery. He'd called June and let her know that he'd be having some people staying with him. Their bags were in Neal's hands, and Scarlett had Vincent in her arms, in seconds they were on their way up the walk. June was at the door to meet them.

"Oh, Neal, when you said you were bringing home a friend I didn't realize it was a girlfriend," June simpered eyeing the woman. Her brown eyes scanned her over, and with a nod she decided that this had to be Neal's girlfriend. She walked with the same confidence. She had the same style, in a pair of white slacks with a white dress shirt (with the sleeves scrunched up), and a black vest over top. Not to mention the little boy in her arms was the spitting image of Neal. There was no doubt in her mind.

"Oh, I'm not his girlfriend," Scarlett said eying the smug look on Neal's face. She had half a mind to elbow him for that look. "I'm just an old friend. I'm Lucy, and this is my son Jude. But you can just call me Blackbird, it's what all my friends call me." She offered a hand to the woman. Scarlett took great stock in handshakes, you could tell a lot about a person by the way they shook hands. And June had a firm confident handshake, which let Scarlett know that her money probably had been earned by some interesting means.

"And what can I call this little prince charming," June asked grinning widely at the little boy in the woman's arms.

"Jude, just Jude" Vincent said simply. He had been taught a long time ago that when his mother gave out his middle name then he should stick with it. She had her reasons for lying to people, and at five years old he understood that. So he went along with whatever she said. "Wike, Hey Jude." He grinned charmingly, and Scarlett chuckled. "Nice two meet yuw."

"A pleasure," June said shaking the little boy's hand. She lead them into the foyer. "Now like Neal you'll have access to anything in the house you want to use, except my daughter and I's private rooms. If you need anything just let Sophia know. And don't worry about tacking on any money to the rent," She smiled touching Neal's shoulder. She really didn't need his money, obviously. But it was nice to have a man in the house again, even if he was so clearly taken.

"Thank you so much for letting us stay here. I would have found a hotel room somewhere, but a single mother... I'm sure you understand." Scarlett rambled a little. She was a little in awe of June. This was the kind of woman who knew what she wanted in life and had always gotten it. Scarlett would bet she didn't have to steal for it either.

"Oh it's no trouble. Oh, and Neal your friend is here, that little round fellow with the glasses? He's already up in your room." Neal nodded, and lead Scarlett up the stairs to his room. Scarlett wasn't sure how she felt about Mozz being here. Sure, she liked him well enough. But Mozz knew things, a lot of things. And she didn't particularly care for him to know too much about her.

"Does Mozz just drop in... Nevermind, I know the answer to that. He always just drops in." Scarlett shrugged as she followed Neal up the stairs. She made a note to avoid staring at his rear, and instead looked at the walls of the stairs.

"Mozz," Vincent asked.

"Yes, Mozz," Neal answered. "He's another old friend of your mother's, and mine. You'll like him, he's kind of funny looking." Vincent giggled at this, which brought a real smile to the man's face.

"Neal," Scarlett chided. "Now he'll tell Mozz that. You know children, they repeat everything they hear. And it's Mister Mozz to you little one." Vincent nodded but he was still giggling and clapping his hands gleefully at the thought of seeing the funny man. Scarlett rolled her eyes and exhaled loudly. "I swear, I went from one child, to another, and now I have two."

"I'm not a child Birdie," Neal tried to say seriously but he was chuckling, and it didn't come out as seriously as he was trying. Scarlett didn't bother to answer him. They both knew he was nothing more than a child, that's all he'd ever been. Yes, she'd loved him for what he was. In fact that had never changed, she did still love him for what he was. He was a child, and she loved him for it. But there came a time in a woman's life when she couldn't be with a child anymore. She needed someone to take care of her. And try as he might, Neal was not that man. He didn't bring home a consistent pay check. He didn't work a consistent job. And he just wasn't stable, especially not with Vincent in the picture. She could ignore him being a child if he was more stable. She could ignore his childlike behavior, and his impish ways if he just knew how to be the man of the family. But he'd never been the man who brought home money. Granted, he kept them safe. He'd always been there for her when she needed him, but stability was the key. And Neal just wasn't stable.

The door creaked open, and in walked Neal carrying the two duffles. "Neal, what is going on," Mozz asked rising quickly, and then he saw her, Blackbird. "Blackbird?"

"Mozzie," Scarlett grinned brightly at him.

And then Mozz's mouth fell open when he saw the child in her arms. He'd known that she'd run off and had a kid, but he'd always thought she'd left Neal for someone else. Well, that was clearly untrue given the dark haired blue eyed little boy in her arms, smiling that charming smile. Neal's lips stretched into the identical smile as he watched Mozz take in the little family. "And who's this?"

"Jude," Vincent answered with a giggle. "Mister Neal, you're right he does look funny." Vincent dissolved into side splitting giggles, and he was laughing so hard that Scarlett had to sit him on the couch before she dropped him. Mozz hadn't caught on yet to the fact that the little boy had just said he looked funny.

"I told you he'd repeat it," Scarlett frowned at Neal. "You're going to have to watch what you say from now on. I've tried to teach him manners, and I won't have a little time with you throwing it down the drain." And there she was, right before him her eyes angry suddenly. It seemed like maybe when it had something to do with her she was incapable of anger. But when it had to do with her child she suddenly became the mama-wolf protecting her cub ready to eat his face. He should have guessed.

"Hey, I have very good manners. I'll have you know it was my dashingly good manners that got you to talk to me. My dashingly good manners that got us to be friends." He retorted falling back into the old habit of bickering with her. Mozz watched them, and felt strangely like he'd gone back in time. This was a scene straight out of their past. It was as if nothing had changed, nothing at all.

"No, it was your dashingly good looks, and you're annoyingly persistent attitude," She poked his chest and glared up at him. Mozz knew better than anyone where this was heading, but the question was after five years would their bickering end the same way?

"Ah, so I'm handsome then," Neal said with a grin his blue eyes twinkling.

"Well, not today," Scarlett answered fighting the smile that was tugging at the corners of her lips. "You look positively dreadful today. You need a shave, and some sleep. And to comb your hair. And..." she sniffed him. "is that cigarette smoke I smell? You haven't been smoking again have you?"

"No, Mozz smokes," he lied. He had smoked, only a pack though in the past few days while he tried to deal with all the stress that her coming back into town entailed.

"You never could tell a good lie. And we both know Mozz has asthma." Neal frowned a little, but conceded the battle by holding up his hands.

"Alright, alright. I smoked a pack, just one. And I haven't bought another. I don't plan to, I swear." She nodded and smirked pleased with herself. Neal felt a tug at his sleeve, and he looked down confused into the baby blues of the little boy. He had very nearly forgotten that Vincent was here. "Yes?"

"I-," Vincent pondered for a long moment over his words. He was a thoughtful child, and always wanted to be sure the things he said were said just right. "I want some milk, pwease."

Neal looked up from Vincent to Scarlett like a deer caught in the headlights. You see, that right there was exactly why she'd never told him about the little boy. "Right," he walked over to the refrigerator, and pulled out some milk. Upon searching for a glass he came up terribly short when looking for one with a lid. "I don't have one with a lid Birdie."

"It's fine, I have straws," Scarlett began riffling through her oversided bag, and when she pulled her hand out she had a straw with a wrapper on it. "You have to sit at the table with it." Vincent nodded, and climbed into one of the chairs waiting patiently.

"How old is he," Mozz asked finally regaining his sense. He couldn't get over the image of a family that he saw before him. Neal pulling out a quart of milk and filling a glass for the little boy waiting patiently at the table as Blackbird unwrapped the straw and stuck it in the glass for him.

"Nearly five," Scarlett answered easily watching her contented little boy with a peaceful look on her face. Neal had the same contented look on his face, and it really was starting to worry Mozz.

"So what brought you back Blackbird," Mozz continued taking a seat at the table. Neal pulled himself from his thoughts, and put the milk away. Scarlett moved to sit next to the little boy, and her eyes landed on the window behind the table.

"Neal is investigating me," She answered easily. "Seems one of my quant little birdies turned up on a fake guitar in a museum somewhere."

Mozz nodded along, and smiled a little. "So you're back in the game then? I must admit I'd been hoping you'd come back. It's been awfully bo-."

"She's not back in the game Mozz. She didn't do it. You like the view," He asked shifting subjects easily from the uncomfortable questions of Mozz to impressing Scarlett.

"You always had impeccable taste, but I must say I think this outstretches even you," She teased lightly. Mozz rolled his eyes. So it was going to be that way was it? Well he wasn't going to sit around and play third fiddle to these two.

"Right well, I'll be going. We'll talk more about this tomorrow. You two probably have some catching up to do," Mozz said standing and leaving once goodbyes were said.

Scarlett pulled a pocket watch from her vest pocket and frowned. "It's night night time for little Vincent." Vincent looked up at her with wide eyes that spoke volumes for how he was feeling. "Don't argue. You've had a busy day with running away from the boogie man, and meeting new people. Little boys need their rest, and if you don't get enough rest you'll grow up to look like Mister Mozz, and you don't want that do you?"

"Noooooo," Vincent moaned hopping out of his chair and allowing Scarlett to lead him back to the room where Neal had set their bags. "I'd wather grow up to wook wike Mister Neaw." Neal could hear them from where he stood in the kitchen, and he grinned widely.

"Oh really," Scarlett asked, and though Neal couldn't see it he knew the little boy was nodding his head quickly. "And why is that?"

"Well yuw said he was handsome. And I'd wike very much two be handsome," Vincent explained in the logical tone Neal had often heard from Scarlett. That little boy knew who he was, and what he wanted, and that had been something Neal had always very much admired in his mother.

"Well if that's what you want then you have to have your handsome sleep," Scarlett replied in the same logical tone. Neal chuckled to himself. Just having her in his home was enough to make him feel alive again. To feel better than he had in quite some time. Her perfume lingered in the air, Channel Allure, a classy elegant smelling perfume that spoke volumes for who she was. The scent itself was enough to send you to another time. It was quiet for a little bit, and then he could hear Scarlett singing Hey Jude to the little boy. He decided to go out onto the balcony, and give them some time alone. And to give himself some time alone. Being around Scarlett like this was intoxicating. He was ready and willing already to do anything she wanted him to. Of course he wanted to prove that she could trust him, that he could take care of them. He'd like to have them in his life more than they were. But he didn't know if he wanted to prove it so well that she thought they could move in together again, possibly get married, become something they both knew he wasn't ready for.

"I really appreciate this," Scarlett said quietly as she joined him out on the balcony. "After this long you didn't have to do anything to help us."

"Come on Birdie, you know I could never leave you high and dry." He didn't turn to her, he didn't look at her he looked out at the city. Scarlett could read him better than anyone else, and he knew she'd be able to see the turmoil in his eyes.

"After what I did, you had every reason to. But then, we are alike that way aren't we? Too stupidly loyal, and good to ever let someone we care about down. I think that's what it was that drew us together." She leant against the rail beside him, just close enough to feel the warmth from her bare forearms, but not close enough to touch. They were quiet for a little while. "You won't understand this Neal," she leant towards him and kissed his cheek again. Neal closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling. "But I really am sorry for what I did to you. You didn't deserve it. And I should have known better than to make that decision on my own." With that she turned on her heel and walked back into the apartment. "Good night Neal."

"Good night Birdie," He answered, but didn't open his eyes or turn. He knew by the time he got the chance to she'd be gone. She'd be in the bedroom already, changing and settling into bed beside Vincent. And oh how he wished he could settle in behind her with his arm wrapped around her so that he knew she was safe. Just having her in his apartment reminded him of that feeling. He didn't need to feel big, or strong, or even bad at any point because he knew she was safe when they settled into bed and he had her in his arms. And she never asked for anything more from him. "Sweet dreams my little Bird."


	3. Kate

It was very early in the morning, and Neal had yet to get any sleep. Every time he tried his mind drifted to Scarlett asleep in the next room in his bed. Things became very uncomfortable at that mere thought. He rolled over trying to get comfortable again but instead found his phone vibrating loudly on the end table. He quickly pushed the ignore button, lest it wake someone. He figured it was no one important, after all who would call at two in the morning with anything important to say? Exactly. And then he thought better of that, because who would call at two in the morning if they didn't have something interesting to say? Exactly. So he reached over, grabbed the little silver phone, and pushed the green button. "Hello," he asked groggily into the receiver. He could only pray that it wasn't Peter with a break in Scarlett's case. He really wasn't much in the mood to have to fend off Peter's questions about her. And he really couldn't deal with something that inferred Scarlett's guilt. His Birdie was having a tough enough time adjusting right now without the help of Peter trying to prove her to be nothing more than a liar at every turn.

"You have Blackbird staying with you," Kate's voice asked from the other end of the line. The familiar voice had Neal sitting bolt upright on the couch, and walking out onto the balcony lest Vincent be a light sleeper. He knew Scarlett was, and if the boy was anything like his mother he wouldn't be able to sleep if there was even the smallest bit of noise that didn't seem right in the apartment. Neal didn't want to wake the little fellow, or his mother for that matter. They both needed their sleep, they'd been through Hell today. Plus Neal had a sneaking suspicion Scarlett would blow up if she found out Kate was asking questions about her.

"Kate," Neal hissed into the phone. He couldn't believe this, his first contact with Kate in weeks and it was about Scarlett staying with him. That could mean one of two things, and Neal didn't like either of them. One, Kate could be jealous. And while that does sound like it would be a good thing for any red blooded male in Neal's position, it wasn't for Neal. He understood Kate, and that's what scared him. If she was jealous then she'd do something about it, and it wouldn't be good. She had a bit of a vindictive streak. Two, Kate could be the one behind Scarlett being investigated in the first place. While that would solve a lot of his problems, it would probably also create a lot of others. It would solve the struggle he was facing of Kate or Scarlett. But then he'd have to deal with the protecting of Scarlett from Kate.

"Neal, Neal, Neal," she tutted into the phone and he could almost see her shaking her head in disapproval. "I cannot believe you let that little hussy back into your life." Hussy was said with such venom that Neal actually felt defensive for Scarlett. His Birdie was no hussy. And here he'd always thought Kate and Scarlett had been friends on some level, apparently he'd been wrong.

"Birdie is not a hussy," he hissed in return. He could hardly believe he was actually finding himself angry at Kate. After everything he'd been doing recently just to get her back, he actually found himself angry at her. It was kind of a revelation to see her in this light. To find that he could be angry with her. To find that there were some things about her character that he didn't like. And a bit of a relief. That meant it wasn't him. It was her. Perhaps he hadn't chased her away she had left of her own accord just to be needlessly mean. Just to get from him that which she wanted. That thought was a little mind bending, but oddly comforting at the same time.

"Right, whatever. I'm not calling to lecture you on your poor choice of sexual partner," she snapped nastily.

"Then what did you call for? Because all I'm getting is you bashing Birdie when she's never done a damn thing to you." Birdie, his Birdie, he would not allow Kate to talk about her like this. Especially now that he knew about Vincent. He had to protect them. Even from the ridicule of the woman he loved. Or thought he had loved. He didn't know. And this business with Birdie was really confusing things. Her coming back into his life was turning things on their head, and he was just so much more confused about Kate than he'd ever been. He wasn't sure which he cared for more anymore. But he supposed this was as good a time as any to pick a woman and stick with her. "What do you want Kate?" He relented a little his voice softening. He needed to make his choice, but who? Scarlett had been first. She had been there for him for years. He had seen a future with her. But she'd left him, and not come back until just now. Kate had been there to pick up the pieces. But she'd left him too.

"The music box Neal. You get it for me," her voice sounded threatening and he didn't like it. He knew there was meant to be an 'or else' in there somewhere, but she just hadn't said it. And suddenly he found himself wondering what Kate was capable of. She obviously wasn't the person he had always thought she was. So who was she then?

"And if I don't? You've yet to give me a reason," his voice challenged back. He wasn't afraid of Kate. There was nothing she could do to him that hadn't already been done to him. He'd been to prison, it wasn't a big deal. The only other things she could do involved violence, and he didn't think she was capable of _that._ Although, he was beginning to wonder.

"I will have your little Birdie caught and put in a cage. Then what will happen to that little hatchling she has? Will he go hungry? Will he cry? Will he be put up for adoption?" It sounded a lot to Neal like she was enjoying cornering him. She had yet to be able to. All she had been able to do was lead him around, but now he was cornered. He didn't like it. He also didn't like how conflicted he was about this. It was Scarlett or a music box he didn't have and would have to steal. He'd be more than willing to give it up if he had it, but the fact of the matter was he didn't. He knew how to get it, but that would put him right back in prison. But then... he thought on this for a moment. Then at least Birdie would still be on the outside, and she could take care of Vincent. He kept thinking. This was a tough choice after all.

"Tell her no and hang up the phone," the voice of Scarlett came from the doorway of the balcony. Neal's mouth hung open in confusion mostly, but partly in awe. There she stood in a black chevron slip barefoot, and glowing in the lights from the city. If it was at all possible she was even more beautiful than he remembered her. And oh how'd he'd missed those little slips she wore to bed. Kate had always worn more modern pajamas. She substituted attractive little slips for sweat pants and t-shirts. Which it was nice that they were comfortable together, but he still missed Scarlett's style. He also missed seeing Scarlett barefoot and in one of his shirts. Oh those had been the days. Scarlett sighed loudly, and walked toward him taking the phone from his hand and holding it up to her ear. "Listen Kate, he's not giving it to you, I won't let him."

"This is going to end badly for you Blackbird," Kate seemed to sneer into the phone. Scarlett just nodded knowingly. She had known this would end badly for her from the beginning. But she would not use Neal like Kate had. She would not hurt him like Kate had. She still loved him, and she would do everything in her power to protect him.

"I know, but you and I Kate, we are birds of a different feather. I refuse to use him to solve my problems." Scarlett's eyes had gone quite cold and it scared Neal just a little. He had never seen her like that. And he wondered what Kate had done to turn Scarlett into her enemy. Scarlett had always had this thing about her, she just liked people and people generally liked her. She didn't have enemies. She didn't pick fights. And the only person she ever bickered with was Neal, and that was all in fun. But one could assume, as Neal did, that when you became a mother something changed. And that thing made it impossible for you to not look like a lioness ready to kill when someone said something to threaten your child. So at that thought Neal felt a little relieved. His Birdie hadn't suddenly become vindictive, she was just protective. And for a split second he wanted her to be protective of him too.

"You're a stupid, stupid girl," Kate spat angrily into the phone.

"Nice chatting with you. Can't wait for our next tête**-**à**-**tête." With that she hung up and handed the phone back to Neal. He stood there for a long moment watching her walk away. And it was not just because he enjoyed the view of her slip clad form from the back, which was also true. But he was geniunely shocked by what had happened. Also, he felt a little grateful to Scarlett, after all these years she wanted to protect him from her problems. It wasn't about independence for her, and he knew that. This was about not dragging him down with her. She was a good woman.

"Birdie," he called after her, following her into the apartment. She turned to look at him, brow quirked. "Is that what I needed to ask Kate about? She wanted the music box even then?" He wasn't sure why he felt like he didn't really want to know the answer. And suddenly he realized that's why Scarlett hadn't told him any of this the other night. She didn't want to hurt him. She didn't want to cause him pain. She didn't want to make him feel like he had to be there for Vincent. She wanted to let him keep the one thing he held dearest, his freedom. But it was a little late for that now. She and Vincent were back in his life, and if he had anything to say about it they wouldn't be going anywhere.

"No," Scarlett answered with a sigh. "When she found out I was pregnant she told me," she stopped for a moment averting her eyes and wearing on her lip. It was clear she was still choosing her words carefully. She still was trying desperately to save him from pain. She was still protecting him. How many years had she been doing this? When would she let him just take care of her? "She told me you'd leave me. That you'd hate me. And I just- well I just couldn't deal with that. So I left you before you could leave me." It all came out in a rush of words and like that Neal picked his side. He saw her clearly now, he saw everything clearly now. He was on Scarlett's side. He always should have been. Of course the idea of Kate playing on Scarlett's insecurities bothered him. He almost felt like denying it's truth. And he probably would have had he not just witnessed Kate's coldness first hand. He didn't know how she could believe such an utter lie, but he nodded in understanding anyways. "She – well she's been to see me recently."

"What," he asked confusion clearly etched on his face.

"She dropped by a few weeks ago. I didn't think I'd ever see her again, but she showed up at my door. I thought she was just coming by to catch up. I was more than willing to let bigones be bigones. But then she started demanding I come to you and get the music box. I told her no." That's when the stress appeared evident as ever around her eyes. She was having a very hard time dealing with Kate, and Kate's threats while she tried to keep her life together. It had to be hard enough being a single mother with a five year old little boy who, if he was anything like his father, had to get into a lot of trouble and be very mischeivous.

"Why did you interfere just now," he asked after processing what she'd said for a moment. "I could have taken care of it." And he could have, easily. Of course his taking care of it would have been agreeing to anything Kate said to keep his Birdie out of prison.

"Because I know you don't have it. And I won't let you put your neck on the line for me." His mouth was already gaping to argue with her but she stopped him. "It's not your job to protect me. Just do me a favor, clear my name." He nodded dumbly, he didn't really understand the request, but he did understand that she didn't want him in trouble again. "You stay out of prison, and I'll stay out of the bird cage, deal," she asked walking up towards him so that she was standing mere inches before him. He could feel the heat radiating off her. And he could easily reach out and grab her, but he didn't. He'd always respected her too much for that.

"Deal," he nodded and smiled lightly.

"Thank you," she whispered and rose on her tip toes to lightly kiss his lips. Before Neal could respond she took a step back and eyed him carefully. She seemed to decide something then and there, and nodded to herself. Neal wondered what she was thinking, but never bothered to ask because he knew she wouldn't tell him. Then she grinned, and shook her head.

"What is it?"

"I don't understand what I ever did so right to deserve a person like you," she answered quietly before turning on her heel and making her way back to the bedroom. All Neal could think was that he didn't know what he did to deserve her. She'd always been good to him, too good to him. And now he was just finding a way to pay her back. His lips were tingling pleasanty, and already he missed the feel of her lips on his. But he didn't push it, he never had. Scarlett was the kind of woman who came to you, not the other way around. She didn't like to be chased around like a piece of meat, and he respected her too much neigh cared for her too much to do that to her. He flopped back onto the couch his eyes closing and his mind drifting. Sleep took him this time, but only because his mind was full of Birdie.

Neal was up before her, much before her, and he moved about quietly through the apartment. He didn't want to wake his guests. When he made his way into the bedroom he stopped dead at the door in awe. There in his bed laid Vincent, looking peaceful and calm, and behind him was his mother. She had her arm looped around the little boy. But that isn't what stopped Neal in his tracks. No it was the vision that Scarlett was laying there with the dim light coming through the windows and falling on her face. She looked like an angel. And to think, that angel used to be his. He shook himself, she wasn't anymore, and he had to remember that. He moved to pull out his clothes, and then went to the bathroom to shower, and get ready. There on the sink, when he went to brush his teeth were two other toothbrushes. One was a little blue racecar , and the other was a plain red generic brush much like his own. It was strange to see two more toothbrushes on his sink. But it also kind of felt nice, like he wasn't alone, like he had someone. He hadn't felt that in so long. Even when he had Kate while he was in prison he felt alone, like he didn't really have her. He imagined if it had been Scarlett he would have known distinctly he had someone waiting for him every day on the outside. But Kate always seemed ready for the next best thing. Which he couldn't blame her, some people were just like that. Suddenly his nose caught the smell of pancakes, and he looked at his reflection in confusion. Pancakes? Who was making pancakes? He came out of the bathroom with everything but his tie and jacket on and headed for the kitchen. There in front of the stove stood Scarlett in a robe, he wasn't sure where she'd found it because it didn't look like something she'd buy herself, and Vincent was sitting at the table watching his mother expectently. A floorboard creaked under him and they both turned to look at him.

"Oh, you're done," She smiled a little and then turned back to the stove.

"Yeah," he muttered sitting his jacket and tie across the back of one of the chairs.

"You know you shower just as long as some of my roommates when I was in college." Her voice was light and conversational, and he found himself kind of liking coming out to find her in his kitchen making breakfast. He usually didn't really eat breakfast mind you, but his stomach growled loudly at the thought of pancakes.

"Are you saying I take as long to get ready as a girl?" Vincent laughed loudly at that like he'd just caught onto the joke, and Neal found he couldn't help but smile at the little boy.

"Take from it what you will. But please sit down and stop hovering like that, you're making me nervous," She chided, and he immediately plopped into one of the seats beside Vincent. His paper was sitting there on the table, and he proceeded to peruse it while he waited.

"Mama, are yuw doin' buwberry," Vincent asked cocking an eyebrow at his mother. It was clear by the look on his face that blueberry was his favorite, which was comforting because most kids liked chocolate chip. Neal himself had never liked chocolate chip, he'd always preferred his pancakes with fruit if they had any additives. Plus what little kid needed all that extra sugar early in the morning? Exactly, so why did someone create the chocolate chip pancake to begin with.

"No, sorry love. Neal doesn't have any blueberries." Vincent gave Neal a shocked look like he couldn't believe the man didn't have blueberries, who didn't have blueberries. Neal just shrugged in response feeling a little bashful at the way the little boy looked at him like he was an incredibly lame person for not having blueberries. Truth was he didn't eat in much, and when he did it was either take out or something Sophia made. So he didn't have much use for groceries of his own. "But I promise we'll go and get some groceries today, and then Neal won't be lacking in anything." There was a small playful smile tugging at her lips as she sat the plate down in front of them, and proceeded to flop pancakes onto Vincent's plate. Neal sat his paper aside and then took some pancakes of his own, and then what she had said took purchase.

"You can't just go out grocery shopping Birdie," He said sternly stopping mid stab at one of the fluffy pancakes.

"And why can't I? I'm perfectly capable, I have been doing it for years. And as I'm sure you'll recall I did all the shopping way back when." He noticed she didn't say when we were living together, or when we were together and he thought maybe it was because she didn't want Vincent to know that that's the kind of old friends they were. Which kind of made sense, but also stung, a lot more than he'd thought it would.

"Don't look at me like that Birdie, you and I both know it's not safe for you two to go out and about with what's going on. I won't have you sticking your neck out there just for blueberries."

"Then I suppose you expect us to starve do you? Lock us up in your place and starve us, is that the plan? Well I won't have it, I will go grocery shopping, and I'd like to see you stop me," her eyes cut dangerously and he gulped audibly. If he didn't know better he'd say she was ready to smack him for the mere thought of not allowing her to go out and shop for food for her and Vincent. He had to think quick, come on think Neal think! He needed a plan, something to tell her to appease her but also keep her safe.

"How about you wait until I get off work? Then I can go with you and be sure you're both safe."

"No," she said plainly sitting on the other side of Vincent and cutting his pancakes for him. The little boy was looking at them both with wide worried eyes. "I will not be holed up in this place. I won't be forced into a corner just because they think they can get at me. I won't do it. I won't live my life afraid. You can damn well forget it Neal Caffrey. I won't do it. And can you imagine keeping Vincent in here for days on end with nothing to do? No." Neal's eyes went wide, and he frowned worriedly. He knew the woman was stubborn but he'd never expected her to ignore him completely.

"Mama, are yuw and Mister Neal fighting," Vincent asked quietly his eyes watery. The little boy had this strange expression on his face like children get the first time they see their parents fight.

"No, we're not fighting," Scarlett cooed quietly kissing his forehead. The boy looked confused, if they weren't fighting then what were they doing? "We're just bickering. We do that sometimes, you'll learn to ignore it. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with Neal's idiotic obstinense." The boy seemed pleased with this answer and nodded his head as he slathered his pancakes with syrup. Neal assumed Scarlett must have asked June if she could borrow a few things for the morning, because he didn't remember having syrup at all. It was probably a good thing the little boy didn't understand the two big words at the end of her statement or he'd understand that she was actually angry with Neal.

"Can you at least wait today? Maybe I can get Peter to give you a body guard or something. Someone we trust from the team. Please? For me," Neal asked. His eyes went wide and soft in an impossibly charming puppy dog expression. That was one thing that had always annoyed Scarlett about him, he could talk her into virtually anything. It had been what kept her coming back to him in those early days, he was impossibly charming.

"Fine, for today we will stay stuck indoors. But I will have you know I am not pleased with this arrangement. And you better find me a girl to spend my days with, because I think a guy would look pretty suspicious. And another thing," she poked his chest over the table her eyes set in a hard expression "don't get off thinking you can boss me around. I am here of my own freewill, and I can leave of my own freewill." With that she took a pancake for herself, and began eating her breakfast. The rest of breakfast went on quit nicely, Vincent chattered away about where he lived, how he'd be going to school, his favorite shows on TV, his favorite color, and anything else under the sun the little boy could think to talk about. Neal quite liked it, he was getting to know the boy in a way he never thought he'd get to know a child before.

All of this left him in spectacularly good mood so that when he got to the office he was whistling and grinning widely. It was strange to be in such a good mood over something so simple, but then he supposed that came with the whole being a father thing. When he reached Peter's office he found his partner frowning at him. "What's got you so perky," Peter asked frowning at him.

"Birdie made pancakes," Neal replied chuckling a little at how odd that sounded. It was an odd thing to be so happy about, but just having her and Vincent around was kind of nice. And he found himself lifted by the mere thought of going home to them this evening.

"Is that code for sex, because I can't keep up with all the euphanisms anymore," Peter grumbled going through the files on his desk. Neal's face fell a little at the thought. He didn't want people thinking of her like that, and it sort of bothered him that Peter did.

"No, that's code for she made pancakes for breakfast. Speaking of Birdie though, I need you to do me a favor." Neal plopped into one of the chairs before Peter's desk. Peter abruptly looked up from his paper work and frowned at the conman. He didn't like the idea of a favor, especially a favor having to do with Blackbird. She was a conwoman, and he didn't want to do anything to help her if he could help it. He was only working to help Neal because of the kid. If it weren't for the kid he'd be just as happy to lock her up and throw away the key. The fact of the matter was she did have that kid, and Neal believed her desperately. Plus Elizabeth would have him sleeping on the couch eternally if he denied helping this woman just because he was being biased.

"What do you need," he asked the frown on his face deepening.

"Well Birdie made me very much aware this morning that she doesn't plan on letting me just keep her locked up at my place. She intends to try to live her life as normally as possible. So I was wondering if you could put someone on her, so she'll be safe." Neal's big blue eyes were pleading with him, and Peter really did not want to do this for him. He really shouldn't be taking men off their jobs to watch Neal's little girlfriend. But still, he understood what it was like to want someone you cared about safe. He would do the same if it was Elizabeth in danger. And even if he didn't really understand the extent of Neal and Blackbird's relationship he understood that much.

"Alright," Peter nodded trying to think of who to use.

"Really, just like that," Neal asked excitedly. He couldn't believe he'd been able to convince Peter so easily. But then Peter was a good guy, and he'd been known to use FBI resources for things for Elizabeth before. So if anyone would understand it would be Peter. Peter nodded, and Neal grinned wider. "Thank you. I swear she'll be an upstanding citizen and won't cause any trouble."

"Yeah well you better be right," Peter grumbled in reply. "Now if you don't mind we actually have some work to do. We have to go by the museum and visit the scene of the crime. I know you'd like to sit here and daydream about your little Birdie all day, but we have stuff to do." He rose from his seat, and pulled his coat on. Neal opened his mouth to object to wanting to just sit around and think about Birdie, but then thought better of it. Because in truth that's kind of what he wanted to do right now. Well, think about her and this Kate thing. He needed to figure out a way to prove this wasn't Scarlett so he could keep her out of prison, and somehow get Kate to leave her alone. Neal had decided earlier that morning that he wasn't going to tell Peter right away about Kate calling him. It would only prove Peter right, that Kate had been working for the bad guys the whole time. And that was just not something Neal wanted to deal with. The older man would be smug, and no one liked a smug Peter. They were in the car on their way to the museum in minutes, and Neal settled into his seat his eyes watching out the window as his thoughts drifted. "So what is it about this girl," Peter broke the silence.

Neal's eyes widened, and he turned to look at Peter. "You wouldn't get it," he said shrugging, but he knew this wouldn't appeased Peter's curiousity.

"Really, I want to know. If we're going to put our necks on the line, my job on the line, and your freedom on the line I think I have a right to know what's so special about her. And what happened to Kate?"

"Kate-," Neal sighed running a hand through his hair nervously. "Kate isn't like Birdie. They're two entirely different woman. I knew Kate had a vindictive streak, I knew she liked only the best, but still I loved her. Birdie was never like that. She never asked me for anything, she just wanted to be with me. She's – well she's good in a way you'd never expect. Sure, she lies all the time, and not even I know about her past or where she came from. But she's honest about the big stuff, like how she feels for people, and her motives. And she's so kind, I once watched her give up her last few dollars to some old man in front of her in line who didn't have enough money for his sandwhich. And she's got such style, and such class. She's not one of those girls who just wants to be classy, she is classy," Neal drifted off and looked over at Peter who was eying him oddly. "I told you you wouldn't get it," Neal grumbled to himself turning back to look out the window. But Peter did get it, he got it better than he got why Neal had liked Kate. Kate had been like an adiction that Neal knew was bad for him but couldn't let go. But Blackbird, she was the air Neal breathed. She was like his Elizabeth to him. Without them they'd die. Which had Peter wondering how Neal had survived for five years without this girl. But he supposed Kate had sort of filled the hole she left.

"I get it," Peter said quietly, and Neal turned a wide shocked look toward him. "Don't worry Neal, we'll prove your Bird isn't behind this." With that he patted the younger man's shoulder in a comforting way. Neal just sat in stunned silence as they pulled in front of the museum. They both got out of the car, and made their way up to the door. In those few seconds Neal decided he'd tell Peter about what had happened with Kate last night. His partner deserved to know, and it would help Peter to better understand the case. They were friends after all. Neal followed Peter into the building where they were introduced to the head curator. Neal looked over the woman and frowned a little, she was in a plain grey pants suit and she didn't look like a happy person in the least. Her name was Susan, a plain boring name for a plain boring suit. And she clearing didn't think him charming or amusing, great. She lead them back to a room where the piece was hung on a wall, and stood there watching them.

"I'd like to examine it off the rack," Neal said to Peter completely ignoring the mean looking Susan who was eying him like a criminal. The woman glared at him, and Neal sighed. "What, am I going to walk out with the fake?" Susan frowned at him but took down the piece begrudgingly and took it to a back room to allowe Peter and Neal to examine. He watched her from the corner of his eye until he was sure it was just he and Peter in the room. Then he pulled the napkin from the other night out of his pocket, and held it up to the little blackbird on the back of the guitar. "I thought so," he said to himself with a grin.

"What? You thought what? Hey, where did you get that," Peter asked pointing at the napkin.

"Birdie left it for me the other night at the bar. That's not the point, look at it." Neal pointed to the beak, and Peter examined them both more closely. He was right the beak of the real Blackbirds little blackbird the line of it stretched upward a little past the beak almost like it was smiling. The bird on the guitar did not. "Birdie always put a smile on their faces. She said she liked them to be happy, only I knew that. And someone who didn't know and didn't examine her signature upclose and personal wouldn't be able to tell. So clearly she's not your girl," Neal smirked wider. He wanted to call Scarlett that second and tell her he'd cleared her at least in Peter's eyes. This was a cause for celebration. He should buy some champagne.

"I never thought I'd never see the day that we'd find a woman as strange as you, but it seems we have," Peter laughed to himself lightly. He had already decided Blackbird wasn't the one who was doing this, but this just proved it to him. Before he'd only decided it because Neal cared for her so much, and because Neal believed her to be so honest. Now he had actual proof. "Alright then, now we just have to prove it. How would you have done it?"

"No, that's not what we need to be asking. We need to ask how Blackbird would have done it. She had a distinct style all her own. We'll have to bring her with us and see what she says. Because these people aren't trying to mimic me, they're trying to mimic her." Peter nodded in understanding, and they called Susan back in. The woman eyed them suspiciously but didn't say anything about it. Instead he just returned the fake guitar to it's proper place, and saw them out. Once back in the car Neal started on what had happened with Kate. Peter listened intently to the whole story, and just shook his head. He couldn't believe the bad luck Neal had with women. But he could believe that Kate was the real villain at play here, and that Blackbird was doing her best to protect Neal. She just seemed like that kind of woman. "So you see, I have to clear her. I just have to. Because this is really about me. They're trying to use my Birdie to get at me."

"I'm not going to say I told you so," Peter chided and Neal was grateful for it. "Well is someone with Blackbird now? I mean you said she's stubborn, she could have gone out on her own."

"Damn," Neal growled angry that he hadn't thought of that himself. He actually thought Birdie might listen to him, but Peter was right the woman was stubborn. "I'll call Mozz." With that his phone was out and he was dialing Mozz in a matter of seconds. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this at all. He should of. But when he was with Scarlett he'd never had to worry about her leaving on her own because she was never in danger before. But now that she was he'd have to remain extra vigilent about her. When the phone picked up, before Mozz could even say hello Neal was giving orders. "Mozz, I need you to go by my place and stay with Birdie. Make sure she doesn't go out anywhere. Make sure she stays put. She's not to go out of your sight you understand me?"

"Well hello Neal," Mozz said with a light laugh. "I'm already over at your place. Scarlett called me over this morning to finish off the pancakes, and I've been here since." Neal sighed in relief at that. Scarlett was safe. His little Birdie was safe. As was his son. Scarlett frowned at Mozz when he spoke into the phone to Neal. She really didn't like that he was calling and checking up on her. She was an adult for Heaven's sake.

"Can I talk to her," Neal asked relief washing over him and suddenly worry was replaced with the desparate need to hear her voice. Peter just shook his head still driving.

"What do you need Neal," Scarlett asked irritably into the phone. "Mozz and I were having a very important conversation before you so rudely interrupted." Neal could almost hear her drumming her fingernails on his table in minor agitation. Of course he also knew that she wasn't really angry with him. She hardly ever was.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that I've proved to Peter that you're innocent. Now he's completely on your side. I thought that might be a cause for celebration. Maybe we can go out to dinner." There was a smooth charming smile stretched across Neal's face, and he was sure Scarlett could hear it in his voice. She wouldn't be able to say no.

"And what do you expect me to do with my son," was the reply, and his hopes fell a little. Peter saw this, and tapped Neal on the shoulder pointing to himself with something akin to a conspiratorial smirk on his face. Suddenly Neal was eternally grateful for his friend.

"Well, I'm sure Elle would love to spend some more time with him. As would Peter." Neal answered the charming smile returning to his face.

"And my groceries?"

"Give Mozz a list, he's good at getting things. Tell him I'll pay him back." Neal seemed to have the solution for everything in hand, and she couldn't say no. She just couldn't. She had to say yes merely because he'd come up with all these answers on the spot.

"Alright, but Mozz isn't going to like that. I'll see you." With that she hung up the phone and turned to Mozz with a sigh.

"What isn't Mozz going to like," Mozz asked nervously as he fiddled with one of the chess pieces before him on the board. They were teaching the little boy how to play by showing him. It seemed the little boy found the idea of the strategy behind it impressively interesting. Which impressed Mozz.

"Neal wants you to do my grocery shopping for me," Scarlett offered getting up and starting to search for some paper and a pen.

"He what," Mozz asked loudly his eyes bugging out of his skull causing the little boy to giggle madly.

"He wants to take me out to dinner. Bluejay, finish off Mister Mozz for mommy, I've got to write down our grocery list." The little boy nodded, and took over her seat. Mozz was still watching Blackbird with wide eyes. How could Neal really thing it would be alright for him to go grocery shopping for them? He didn't grocery shop. He didn't even know how to grocery shop. He wouldn't know what to get, or how much money to take, or where to go, or any of that. He looked positively frazzled. "Don't worry about it Mozzie, I'll be very specific. There is a whole foods right around the block, go there. I'll give you brands and aisle numbers and everything. If you need help you can ask one of the people who works there." Mozz sputtered idly still.

"I can't believe him," Mozz continued to sputter while the little boy before him moved his piece easily putting him in Check.

"Oh don't act like this Mozz. It's Neal, you know how Neal is. Now stop sputtering about and pay attention, Bluejay has just put you in check, and I won't have him winning just because you're distracted. It will do nothing for his intelligence," Blackbird chided wagging her pen in Mozz's face and then pointing it at the chessboard. Mozz's eyes returned to the chessboard and he found himself surprised to see that the little boy had put him in check.

"Check," Vincent chimed with a wide grin. "Yuwr turn Mister Mozz." Mozz nodded and the game continued.

When Blackbid was done writing up her list they were done their game. "Bluejay, I want you to go into our room and get some things together. You'll be staying with Miss Elizabeth and Mister Peter tonight. Be sure to grab some pajamas, clean underwear, a toothbrush-"

"I know mama," the little boy cut her off and scurried out of the room to retrieve his things. Scarlett flopped into the seat across from Mozz her eyes stressed.

"What's gotten into you Blackbird, I've never seen you this tense," Mozz asked with something like actual concern in his eyes. He'd always thought of himself and Blackbird as friends. Granted they weren't as close as she and Neal. But no one was as close to her as Neal was. And it never even bothered Mozz that he didn't know her real name, or any of her background. And in all the years he'd known her, he'd never once seen her like this. She'd always been a carefree happy spirit. But five years had changed her into a stressed out ball of tension.

"It's just everything that's been going on recently. With this investigation, and Neal back in our lives. I'm normally not like this, but I'm just having such a hard time trying to balance everything. I mean really, a single mother on the run from the FBI and some unknown force that wants to pin everything on her. Not to mention everything that's been going on with Kate, and her wanting that blasted music box from Neal." She rested her head in her hands glaring down at the table.

"Wait, what about Kate and the music box. How do you know about that? I wouldn't have thought Neal would have told you about that."

"Mozzie," She smiled ruefully looking up at him. "Neal tells me everything. Not to mention Kate's been to see me recently asking for the blasted thing. She wanted me to come and get it from Neal. Aparrently Neal didn't tell Kate everything like he always did me." She smiled a little kind of happy that she was the only one who knew the truth.

"What do you mean," Mozz asked his brows creasing in confusion as he adjusted his glasses to look at her more clearly.

"I mean, Neal doesn't have that box. He never told me he didn't, but he couldn't lie to me like he could lie to everyone else. Not to mention, I'm the one who stole that damn thing." She was doodling on the pad of paper before her and Mozz just looked at her shocked, his mouth hanging open. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not lying. I took it, but I sold it on the black market before Jude was born. I sold everything on the black market before he was born."

"Why didn't you tell anyone? I mean really that's the kind of achievement you should brag about."

"Yeah, well I didn't much care for the glory," She shrugged easily. "What I did was never about the glory. It was never about the money for that matter either. It was about the history, the art, the places I saw, the people I met, and the general fun of it. So I let people believe Neal stole it, because he seemed to like being puffed up to be the big boy on campus. It didn't matter to me either way." Her pen was making mindless swirling patterns on the paper before her, and she had this dreamy far away look in her eyes. Like she was remembering her past. Like she was back there that day when she'd found out Neal was getting the credit for her theft.

"I suppose you're right," Mozz said quietly. Vincent returned to them with his little blue duffle stuffed full of toys and games and books. Scarlett laughed to herself.

"I hope you have your clothes, and toothbrush in there." Vincent nodded vigoriously, and sat his bag on the couch. "Hey Bluejay, why don't you and Mister Mozz play another game of chess while mommy gets ready for her dinner."

"I'd like that very much," Mozz said with a grin, and the little boy laughed before taking up his seat again. Scarlett wandered back into the back bedroom where she grabbed her things, then headed to the bathroom. When the shower was on Mozz quirked a brow at the little boy who'd just moved a pawn. "Do you like Mister Neal?"

Vincent looked up at the odd question, and quired a brow of his own. It was positively scary how much like Neal he looked especially when he got those serious expressions on his face. "Sure I wike him. Why you ask?" Mozz moved a pawn forward as well.

"I was just wondering," Mozz shrugged but the boy still looked at him suspiciously. "I think he might be taking your mommy on a date."

"A what," the little boy asked his brows creasing in utter confusion.

"A date. You know where they go to dinner, and he tries to charm her into liking him more." Mozz found it odd that the little boy didn't know what a date was. But then maybe Blackbird hadn't been on any since she'd left Neal. That was a comforting thought. Neal would be pleased with that. Of course Mozz didn't think it would do him good to tell him that. Because Neal was already very much in danger of being as in love with Blackbird as he'd ever been.

Vincent shrugged, "She aweady wikes him a wot." Mozz looked a little confused. "I can teww, I know my mama." This shut Mozz into an unusual silence, and the game continued. It seemed though the little boy didn't understand much about male and female relationships he did understand his mother, and he did know that his mother liked Neal an excessive amount. How Vincent knew this was simple, it was because Neal knew her name, and because he'd seen pictures of them from before he was born. His mama kept a shoebox under her bed that he went through when he was left with the sitter. It helped him to miss her less. In that box were millions (maybe not millions but he thought there were millions) of pictures of his mama and Mister Neal laughing and smiling, and kissing in front of that big tower thing in that country where the people talked funny. And since he didn't see his mama acting like that with anyone else, he was able to draw the rational conclusion that she liked Mister Neal a lot.

Neal returned home to find Vincent and Mozz staring each other down across his chessboard. This image alone made him laugh so hard he had to lean against the door frame to maintain his balance. Both sitting at the table looked up at him with confusion clearly etched on their faces. "Nothing," He brushed it off walking to stand beside Mozz. "Thanks for this Mozz." Mozz just nodded. "Where is your mom," Neal asked bending down to look the little boy in the eye.

"She's back in da woom gettin' weady," Vincent said easily and then returned to glaring at the chessboard trying to decided his next move. "Checkmate," he said moving his piece and cornering Mozz.

"What," Mozz sputtered examining the board more closely. Neal chuckled looking at the board, the boy had cornered him, easily with his knights and a bishop.

"I win," Vincent cheered.

"So he does Mozzie," Neal said with a grin.

"I can't believe he beat me again. This is the third time," Mozz sputtered on.

"I warned you he was a quick inner," Scarlett said from the bedroom door. All three looked up to see her standing there looking impossibly beautiful. She was wearing a dark grey jersey material dress with ruffles all over the front except at the waist where there was a band of material like a belt to break it up, a tan blazer with the sleeves rolled up to just bellow her elbows, and a pair of grey suede closed toe pumps with a bow on the outside. Somehow she'd gotten a hold of one of those little caps with the veils and the feathers in the same color grey as her dress. And to top it off around her neck was a long chain, at the end of the chain was a blue cameo locket with a little boy on it. Neal'd wager good money it had a picture of Vincent in it, and something about that just made everything about her scream Birdie. She was herself in a way she hadn't been since he'd seen her that first night at the bar. And that's what he'd been hoping for, to see that carefree whimsical look in her eyes that he'd always loved. "Did I grow a third arm suddenly," she asked wearing on her lip but her eyes lighting playfully.

"No mama, yuw wook beautifuw," Vincent said with a wide grin hopping from his seat and running to her to give her a big hug. She scooped him up and hugged him to her easily. And suddenly there it was, a picture of a family straight out of another century. With Vincent in his little knickers, button up shirt, and suspenders, and his mother in her outfit. His family from another century.

"Nicely done," Mozz applauded easily, but Neal was still standing there in awe. Scarlett bowed her head, and blushed slightly. Mozz had the sense to elbow Neal into action.

Neal cleared his throat which he found suddenly dry, "You look nice," he managed through all the muddle that had become his brain in a matter of seconds. Scarlett merely shook her head, and set Vincent on his feet.

The little boy in turn ran up to Neal and tugged on his sleeve. Neal looked down on him, but Vincent beconed him down to his level. When Neal complied the little boy swatted his shoulder and said, "That's no way two tawk two a wady. Didn't yuwr mama teach yuw better?" Scarlett chuckled lightly, and Neal cleared his throat feeling unbearably more embarrassed then before. His cheeks flushed a little.

"No, my mama didn't. But your's seems to have done such a fine job," Neal grinned at the little boy. "So what would you suggest I tell her?" Vincent whispered something in his ear, and Neal laughed a little. Then striding across the room gallantly he took Birdie's hand, kissed it (all by Vincent's instructions) and said "I am told that it would be in good manners to tell you that you look positively elegant." Vincent clapped gleefully from where he stood, and nodded in approval. Scarlett merely laughed brightly and kissed Neal's cheek in response. For this response Neal was so pleased that Birdie had taught Vincent proper manners. "Well we should be off. We have reservations in about a half hour, and we have to drop the little Hatchling off with the Burkes on our way."

"How is that working with your nice anklet," Mozz asked as he pulled on his coat, and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

"We're not going very far," Neal answered easily. Mozz just nodded, and waved goodbye as he left. They were soon in a cab and riding across town to where the Burke's lived. Elizabeth was at the door to meet them, she was excited to see Vincent and Scarlett, and so she had been giddily waiting by the window since Peter told her the news. Neal didn't even have time to knock.

"Come on in," Elizabeth said with a wide grin. Vincent ran right in and dropped his bag on the couch then returned to stand beside her.

"We really don't have time," Neal said easily. Elizabeth looked a little disappointed, but she nodded anyways.

"Well alright then. You look very nice," She said touching Scarlett's arm. Scarlett grinned widely at the compliment. "I wonder where do you shop."

"Oh a little bit of everywhere. Thrift stores, department stores,-" Scarlett was just about to ramble on about how she got most of her clothes.

But Neal cut her off, because he knew that was one thing she could go on about all night. "Sorry to cut you off Birdie, but we really are going to be late." With that he gave Elizabeth a wide grin, which could only say one thing, I want to get her alone for a little while can you please just be quiet.

"Alright, alright. Always in a rush," Scarlett grumbled bending down to pick up Vincent. "Goodnight Bluejay. Now if you need me Miss Elizabeth has my number, and I will be here in ten minutes tops. But you shouldn't need me should you, because you're a big boy aren't you?" Vincent nodded eagerly along.

"Night night mama. Yuw have fun wif Mister Neal. And Mister Neal yuw remember what I told yuw about yuwr manners." The little boy pointed a little chubby finger at Neal and narrowed his eyes in warning. "Don't make my mama upset." Neal nodded and grinned at the little boy trying to reassure him. "Well then, wiff dat all settled. Bye bye." Scarlett set him on his feet, and he ran into the house probably to go bug Peter if Neal knew anything about the little boy. He promptly put his hand on the small of Scarlett's back and started leading her back to the cab.


	4. Fowler

As they rounded the corner Neal made her close her eyes. He didn't allow her to open them again until he'd lead her up a flight of steps and out onto... a balcony? "You know how I feel about surprises," Scarlett mumbled. "Especially if you're leading me around a restaurant with my eyes closed."

"Trust me Birdie, you'll like this one." Then he sat her in a wrought iron chair. "Open," he whispered much too close to her ear. The closeness sent a shiver up her spine. When she opened her eyes she found herself out on Neal's balcony. There was an old expensive looking candelabra in the center of the table, and several other lanterns around providing the only light aside from the city lights. There were also christmas lights attached to the railing, and beautiful dinnerware set on the table. Well, Neal had really pulled out all the stops, and asked for an exceeding amount of help from June. "Well," he asked nervously wearing on his lip.

"You outdid yourself on this one," She grinned at him and he grinned back wider than before. He reached for a bottle of champagne. "But I begin to wonder, why is it you're going out of your way?"

Neal's hands stilled on the bottle and he looked at her with a shocked expression. And suddenly he was wondering the same thing. He wasn't really sure why he felt this boyish urge to impress her. She'd always accepted him for what he was. But even when they were younger he wanted to prove to her ... well something. He wasn't quite sure what it was. It may have been that he could take care of her. It may have been that she didn't have to run away every time she thought things were getting too hard. It may have been that he wanted to prove he loved her. It may have been a lot of things. But instead of saying any of those things, he just sighed and said, "Birdie, you need to relax. I remember when we were younger, before everything happened you were always so happy. I haven't seen you like that this entire time. I just want you to be happy." There was much more to say than that. Like I love you. Like I want to be with you. Like I want to be the father I should have been all these years, the man I should have been all these years. I want to care for you. I want to be there for you. I want to hold you when you cry. I want to smile when you laugh. I want to make you pancakes one morning while you sleep in. But he couldn't get any of that to come out. The smooth, suave Neal Caffrey found himself wordless when it came to expressing those feelings.

Thankfully Scarlett just nodded at his statement, and asked "What are we having," with a girlish grin that he hadn't seen in ages. He was so lost he'd hang everything he had here and run away with her and Vincent if she asked him to.

"Well, Sophia made a lovely salad and a nice bow tie pasta with salmon and a light cream sauce. And for desert Elizabeth managed to get her hands on a cake from that little bakery you loved down on Ninth in Chelsea." Scarlett's eyes had gone impossibly wide as he poured her a glass of champagne and he began to worry he'd done something wrong. "What is it?"

"You're just going to spoil us is all. And then what will happen when we have to go back to living as we were." This thought depressed Neal. He didn't want to think about Scarlett and Vincent leaving him again. He'd just gotten them back. But it seemed she didn't plan on staying. She never did plan on staying. He began to imagine that maybe she didn't know how to stay. Maybe she couldn't sit still long enough for that. But then that didn't make sense since he was pretty sure she'd been living in one place for the past little while. "Don't look like I just kicked your puppy," Scarlett sighed putting her hand on his. He looked at her with the hang dog expression still on his face. "Seriously Neal, stop looking at me like that. We'll talk about this some other time." Neal nodded dumbly but he still had the same expression on his face. "Neal! I mean it. You wanted to have a good time, fine let's have a good time but you stop looking at me like that this instant or I'll go stay with Peter and Elizabeth."

"Alright, alright. I'll stop. Besides we should probably have this discussion with Vincent. I'll go get the salad." Scarlett nodded, and he went inside.

"Can I help you with that," She asked because she felt kind of useless just sitting there. He told her no, but she rose anyway to help him. "You know this kind of reminds me of our first real date." She said lightly as she helped carry things to the table. He looked at her brow quirked. "Well if I remember right you went all out of your way to get us this great table at this little place down on Broadway. I also remember it going terribly. The waiter spilt sauce on my dress. You were so nervous you barely spoke the entire time." She was laughing, but Neal looked less than amused at the memory. "Oh come on Neal, one day you're going to have to get over this embarrassment you have for how awe struck you were by me."

"That'll be the day you stop mentioning it," he pouted but when she kissed him on his cheek he grinned widely. "Alright, I'm over it.

"Good thing, you know how I feel about pouting. And I've grown to dislike it even more since having Vincent."

"I can imagine how being a sucker for a pouter would kind of kill off any seriousness when he's in trouble," Neal's grin got wider if that were even possible.

"You know he looks just like you when he pouts."

"Well he had to get his unusual good looks somewhere." This earned him a light kick to the shin and he grumbled a little. They drifted off into silence as they started eating. Scarlett's mind was easily drifting toward Vincent, which is what she worried about constantly these days. Of all the things to inherit from his parents, their noses for trouble had not been the things she'd wanted him to get. She'd much rather he be lazy like his grandfather than curious like his parents. Their curiosity had only ever gotten them in trouble, and it would only get their son in trouble. But you couldn't change it once he'd developed it. And he wouldn't be nearly as smart if he were lazy.

"His first word was paint," Scarlett mentioned whimsically, and Neal looked up from his food with that impossible grin on his face. Her eyes had lost that tension and worry, and now they held nothing but carefree whimsy and he loved it. "I was working on a painting, and he was sitting beside me just watching, trying to eat the paint you know how children do. And the suddenly he just said it, loud and clear, paint."

"It would be that wouldn't it," Neal said laughing and shaking his head. With two parents as into the arts as they were it would be paint.

"We're just lucky it was something in English." Scarlett laughed right along with him, and soon enough they were onto their pasta. Conversation came easily after that. They talked about their son, and the past. Scarlett led him away from anything that had to do with what she'd done the past five years while she ran from him. They went through two bottles of champagne, and by the time they had gotten to desert they were on their third, or was that their fourth, Scarlett couldn't remember anymore.

"What have you been doing while you were gone," Neal asked as he pulled the cake out of the refrigerator, and started cutting them a large piece.

"I went home," She said quietly grabbing two forks and following behind him. She'd ditched her heels during the meal luckily or she would have likely tripped over the step to the balcony. Her blue eyes were slightly glassy, as were Neal's. But neither really seemed to notice. They were too wrapped up in each other.

"How did that go," His voice asked light and conversational. He knew she didn't like to talk about where she'd come from, but he wasn't thinking all that clearly at the time. If he were he wouldn't have asked at all. The conversation would have ended when she said she went home. Because he knew, as he'd always known that there were some things about herself that she wouldn't share even with the one person she trusted the most.

"Better than I'd thought it would. My father had died while I was gone." She shrugged, for some reason she wasn't finding it hard to talk about this. Well, not as hard as she'd thought. She trusted Neal. He wouldn't judge her. And he cared for her and Vincent. Maybe it was about time he learned about the past that had made her what she was. Maybe it was time he learned about why she didn't trust people, and she always lied. Or maybe it was the champagne.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly averting his eyes awkwardly as he sat the cake in front of her, and pulled his chair to sit beside her. He found his arm around the back of her chair, and his head leaning lightly on her shoulder in an attempt at comfort.

"Don't be," she offered lightly shrugging so his head bounced on her shoulder. He took his head off her shoulder to look at her oddly stilling her hand before she could take a piece of the cake and start desert. He looked very seriously into her eyes just trying to figure her out, and why she wouldn't be upset that her father had died. "Neal," She sighed running one hand down his cheek, and kissing his nose lightly. "I never told you this, any of this, no one knows this in fact. But I – well I trust you." She looked down at her hands in hesitation, and then found her resolve and met his eyes again. "My father was a mean drunk of a man. I never met my mother. I don't know if she died, or left. Whatever the case she left me with that man, and well let's just say he was never kind to me. I developed the need to lie because of him, and it became a compulsion because I was constantly hiding bruises, and broken bones. When I left I never looked back, and I prayed to God if I ever had to go back he'd be dead. So you see, it was a relief to me. As terrible as that sounds. And yet it wasn't a surprise either. He drank and smoked more than he ate or slept. He died soon after I left because no one would take care of him, and put up with his drunken rages. This is why I am the way that I am." Neal had watched her intently, his eyes glassy but determined to catch every word and soak it into his mind so that he could remember it. He'd always wanted to know what made Birdie, Birdie, and now he did, and he suddenly wished he could unknow it. He didn't see her differently. She was still the strong independent beautiful woman he'd fallen in love with so many years ago. But he didn't want to think about his Birdie growing up in a home like that. He didn't want to think about her worrying that he'd turn out like that. That must have been what she thought when Kate said he'd hate her. She must have thought he'd turn on her like her father had. And suddenly he regretted that pack of cigarettes he'd smoked recently, and every mean thing he'd ever said to her. "Neal, don't look at me like that," She shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry Scarlett," He answered softly running the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone. "I'm so sorry." He never usually used her real name, because he knew she didn't like it and she'd like it if no one knew it. But in that moment she'd never loved her own name so much. It came out so softly as if a butterfly had merely whispered it instead of the man before her. And the way he said it, it made her feel safe. Like with him, no matter what, she was safe he would protect her.

"Don't be sorry," She whispered with a slight smile kissing his cheek. "If it weren't for him I'd never have become what I did. And then I'd never have met you. If it weren't for him, I'd have just been some normal girl with no lust for a different life. Because of him I left the moment I could, I went to college. I got a degree in history, and then I went and I saw the world. And collected a few of the artifacts from those great stories along the way. And because of all that I met you. Without all of that, I wouldn't have been in that museum scoping out how to steal that Van Gough that day, and we would never have met. So you see, it's for the best." God, he loved her. Always looking on the bright side of things. Always proving to him that even in the worst of times some how life was worth living. It was that ability to see the bright side of the dark things in life that had gotten him through prison. He hadn't known it while it was happening, because he never thought about her. But she'd given him a piece of herself so long ago, and that piece of herself allowed him to live even when he was behind bars. She saved him. "Stop looking at me like that Neal," She said bashfully bowing her head, her already alcohol flushed cheeks flushing impossibly more.

"I just can't get over it."

"Get over what," She asked finally freeing her hand from his so that she could take off a piece of the cake with her fork and put it in her mouth. A small groan escaped her lips as she chewed on the chocolate cake. She hadn't spent any money on extra things like this in such a long time, and she'd forgotten how sinfully good chocolate cake was. Sure she got little ones from the grocery store for her and Vincent every once in a while as a treat, but nothing compared to chocolate cake from her favorite bakery. Neal lost all train of thought at that little groan, and his throat went impossibly dry as he watched her continue to eat the cake. He took a sip from his champagne glass to try to ease the cotton mouth feeling, but it did nothing for him. After a long moment of silence she turned to him, and asked again "get over what?"

"You. I can't get over you Scarlett. I can't get over how strong you are, raising our son on your own. How optimistic looking back on your past like it was nothing because it brought you here to this moment. I just – I can't get over you at all." With that he kissed her firmly and soundly. She tasted like chocolate, and champagne, and all the best things he'd ever loved wrapped up into this neat little package presented to him with a grey hat with feathers on her head. And she responded, oh how she responded. Her tongue darting out easily to meet his, and dance along the roof of his mouth. The chocolate cake was soon forgotten, and they only broke apart for air. Neal's mouth moved along her jaw, and down to her neck, and Scarlett giggled when he found a particularly ticklish spot.

"Neal," She said trying to get his attention. But he was far too distracted, he hadn't seen her in five years and this was his one shot to make her his again. Or at least that's what he kept telling himself. How he thought this would make her stay was beyond any rational thought. But then who is rational when in love, and drunk? That's what I thought. "Neal," She said again much more clearly this time, and pushed his head back gently with her hand under his chin. He grumbled a little and looked at her with that familiar hang dog expression. "Don't do that. You went through all this trouble to get everything together, and I won't have you upset because you wasted your time. Now let's finish desert." Ah, Scarlett always rational. But he didn't want rational Scarlett right now. He wanted frivolous carefree Scarlett.

"I was finishing my desert," and there appeared that normal charming smile that was only a little lopsided due to his drunken state. Scarlett laughed, and patted his cheek playfully.

"Oh cheeky cheeky Neal," She laughed kissing where she'd patted. "While I really do enjoy your idea of desert, I refuse to go any further with it until we finish our cake." He pouted and whimpered slightly, but Scarlett had been a mother for these five years and with him for several years before that, it didn't work as well on her as it had once. "You can continue to pout, or you can refill my glass." He pouted for a little bit longer before finally moving to refill her glass, because if you knew Scarlett you knew when she made a decision she stuck to it. And she had decided Neal would get no further until she finished her cake. So he helped her along. When she was through she moved to clean up the dishes but he stopped her. "Come on Neal we can't just leave them."

"Yes, we can, and you will," he said very firmly. He usually didn't take the lead with Scarlett. Generally he allowed her to control what happened, and it had always worked out nicely for him that way. But she was stalling, and he was done with it. Her mouth hung open loosely a little surprised that he almost ordered her to leave them. He took that as an opportunity to kiss her again, and before she could stop him he scooped her up in his arms, and she giggled girlishly.

"Neal! What are you doing? I'm not a child," She protested still laughing. This was the most she'd laughed since she'd come to him for help, and he was really starting to enjoy it. This was who his Birdie had been before she left him. This was who he wanted her to be forever. And he'd do everything in his power to make sure she could be carefree. He vowed to himself he'd take care of them so she could be like this all the time. Alright, maybe that was a ridiculous promise, but he was drunk and not much can be said for a drunk man. Especially a drunk man in love.

"No, but you are a little Bird," he replied lightly kissing her easily as he dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed and she laughed louder. "And I must keep hold of you, lest you fly away." Scarlett laughed lightly allowing him to push her jacket off her arms and toss it across the room.

"Well I don't think I'm going anywhere right now. Not while you're the only one keeping me safe from the cat, and out of the birdcage." She joked back as he kissed down her throat, his hands hunting for the blasted zipper at the back of her dress. The banter all but stopped as things escalated and clothes ended up on the floor. It was probably way too easy for them to end up right back here. But Neal was too afraid of losing her to really worry about it. And Scarlett was too worried about everything else to worry about this. For one night Scarlett could be herself, and just be with Neal like she used to be, and she enjoyed it. She had missed the ability to be herself for any length of time with an adult. Yes, she could be herself with Vincent, but he didn't even understand the difference. And he didn't understand everything that was his mother, all he saw was his mother. He didn't understand what he was seeing even if he did accept it, it was always without question. Neal understood her on a different level. He understood what he saw. He knew what lay behind every motion, every minute, every look in her eyes. And yet despite that he still accepted her. It wasn't blind acceptance like her son, but it was a different kind the kind that came with love and understanding. The kind that came from being alike in some ways. And she'd missed that. No one else knew her the way Neal did and still accepted her. Only the people from her hometown ever knew her past, and they had shunned her. Neal knew it all, and here he was still accepting her like he always had. She lay there a while later out of breath and naked and trying to wrap her head around the world she was in.

"I love you Birdie," He whispered into her ear before drifting off to sleep, his arm draped comfortably across her waist. She was safe, and he knew it because she was there under his arm. He'd missed that feeling. Scarlett turned to him eyes wide, and sighed when she saw he'd fallen asleep.

"I love you too Neal," She kissed his forehead and pushed that familiar dark hair back from his face to get a good look at him. There he lay, the man who looked just like her son. And they looked so much more alike when they were sleeping, their thoughts quieted and their minds peaceful. She snuggled in closer to him, trying desperately to forget that she might lose them both if she wasn't careful. She could go to prison, and then she wouldn't have either of them to hold or to hold her. And she'd be lost in a way she wasn't sure she could survive. She couldn't survive without Vincent. The only way she'd been able to survive without Neal was that she'd had a piece of him with her always so long as she had Vincent. But the moment she lost them both she wouldn't really have much reason left to go on would she? She wondered if maybe that's how Neal had felt when she left him and then again when he got caught. That alone was enough to make her feel guilty enough to where she didn't want to leave him again. But she'd feel more guilty if she stayed and they were all miserable. If she stayed and he wasn't stable for Vincent. If she stayed and he regretted losing his freedom. She'd feel worse.

"You won't leave me will you Birdie," he asked in his sleep as he snuggled her closer to him trying to get as close as humanly possible. He just needed to feel her close to him. To know that she was safe, and that he was safe. And that they were together despite all the bad that had happened in the past several years.

"Not tonight Neal," She kissed his lips gently, "not tonight." He seemed to be pleased enough with that answer and drifted back off. It took Scarlett's champagne riddled mind a bit longer to drift off, but eventually she did. She allowed herself to be safe in this moment and not think of the next. As she once had many years ago when she was young and there was nothing in the world but Neal and herself.

Scarlett was up first, she grabbed his shirt off the floor and buttoned it around herself. Then she went to make coffee, and grab some advil. The throbbing in her head was already starting, and she damned Neal and his champagne. She would not be allowing him to get her that drunk again for a very long time, if ever. She returned to bed to find Neal sitting up and blinking angrily at the window, a tray in hand with toast coffee and pain killers. "You look rough, love."

The last word brought a smile to Neal's face despite his hung over state. Love, she hadn't called him that in a very long time, and he had taken to missing it. It wasn't even a pet name, it was sort of a word of ownership, of possession. As in this is my love. She'd used it yesterday with Vincent, and that had brought back all those old memories. "Remind me never to drink that much again." He said with a small chuckle as she handed him his coffee. "You're the best," he offered kissing her cheek and drinking her in before taking a sip of his coffee. There she stood tray in hand, in his dress shirt, feet bare and hair mussed. Yes, that was exactly how he loved her. She should stay like that forever. She flopped onto the bed beside him.

"Well, I figured since I was up and making it for myself, I may as well get you some." She shrugged and sipped her own coffee before taking a couple advil, and nibbling experimentally on some toast. She had to be sure her stomach wouldn't react badly before she ate the whole piece. Thankfully the nibble stayed down, and she was able to eat a bit more gradually feeling better as the caffeine and bread sunk into her system.

"I need you to come into work with me today," Neal said leaning over and taking a piece of toast from the plate before her. "I want you to go to the museum with us to see how you would have stolen that guitar," he explained when she cocked a brow at him. "Peter asked me how I'd have done it, but since they're copying your style it wouldn't make much sense for us to think of how I'd have done it. We have to figure out how they'd think you did it." Scarlett nodded in understanding, but didn't say anymore. Her head was already protesting at the words she'd forced herself to speak. She'd never been a morning person, and she was even less of one when she was hung over. She leaned her head back against the head of the bed and groaned a little as a surge of pain shot up her neck into her forehead. Damn that champagne. It was never hard on the stomach, but it was always hard on the head.

"No more drinking so long as I'm here," she groaned causing Neal to chuckle. "I mean it, I'm a mother now I can't allow myself to get drunk and party like we used to. I have responsibilities now."

"Responsibilities," he repeated the smile not leaving his face. "My little Birdie is all grown up."

"Don't mock me you twit, one of us has to be the adult here. And you're clearly incapable of it." Neal was still chuckling but it didn't quite reach his eyes this time. His mind had traveled at the mention of him being incapable of being the adult to the promise he'd made himself last night. He had to prove to Scarlett that he could be the adult, that he could be the man. The question was how? Maybe he'd ask Elizabeth, she'd have to have some insight on these kinds of things, she was a woman after all. "Go on, go shower first since you take longer," she chided playfully as she shoved him out of bed. He had no choice but to comply, and the morning proceeded in a normal fashion. They each got ready for going into the office with Peter. Scarlett put on the clothes she'd been wearing the other day, the white pants, black vest, and white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just under her elbows. There were a pair of flats hiding under those slacks, and Neal looked at her with something like a smirk. "What is it?"

"Well you need something," Neal said the smirk not fading as he grabbed a hat from the hat rack near the door, and put the black fedora on her head. "There perfect." He grinned to himself, and she cocked the hat over one of her eyes jutting out a hip, and putting her hands on her hips. She cocked a brow in question and he chuckled lightly. "That's the Birdie I remember," he said kissing her cheek. "Not put on a coat you'll freeze out there in just that." With that he helped her into a black trench, and they were off. Peter was waiting for them in the car pulled in front of the house. Scarlett wasn't thinking of anything except her own nerves. She wasn't thinking about the splash she'd make at the FBI. She wasn't thinking of the way Neal had forced her to put on a coat. She wasn't thinking of how things had changed between them in one short night, and yet still remained the same somehow. None of that seemed to occur to her. She was just nervous about walking into the FBI building. Why? Well she was a criminal by every sense of the word, and criminals were always nervous walking into the lion's den. And she, just a little bird was walking right into the Lion's den with every hope that they wouldn't see her for what she was. She wore nervously on her nail.

Neal held the door for her when they got to the building and, noticing her nervous state, placed his hand on the small of her back in hopes to comfort her. It helped. Scarlett felt safe so long as that hand was there. The moment the doors opened there were whispers, and heads turned, and Scarlett's nerves increased. These people knew what she was, she could just tell. "Relax Birdie," Neal whispered into her ear brushing his lips along her cheek. "I won't let anything happen to you." She nodded, took a deep breath, and followed behind Peter with Neal's hand still firmly on her back.

Lauren Cruz wasn't watching the door, but when the whispers started her eyes flew to it. There stood Peter, and Neal with a woman, a petite little woman. Neal's hand was on her back, and the woman's head was tilted back proudly but there was a real kind of nervousness in her eyes. She was wearing on her lip, but she seemed to gather all her strength as Neal leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Hey Jones, who's that," Lauren asked the man standing beside her.

Jones' eyes had also fallen on the scene, but he didn't think much of it. After all Neal had always been a womanizer, it would make sense that one of these days he'd come in with one on his arm. "I don't know Cruz, I guess one of Neal's girlfriends." Lauren watched the two carefully, her eyes narrowed. Neal's eyes didn't stray from the woman like they normally did when he was with a woman. He didn't bother to leer at anyone with legs in the office. And he also didn't bother to move from her the entire time they moved forward. He had this protective look in his eyes, like... she tried to shake herself mentally to keep from thinking it, but she couldn't stop herself, he looked like a man in love.

"I don't think she's just one of Neal's little girlfriends," Lauren said watching the pair carefully. She couldn't decide what she thought about the woman. Something about the way she allowed Neal to lead her through the office bothered Lauren, but then she was in the FBI and that made most people nervous. Jones looked up from the file in his hands to watch more closely at Cruz's words.

Just then Fowler caught sight of the pair, and his face turned into something like amusement. Neal's eyes narrowed as the nuisance who liked to call himself Agent Fowler strode up to them with a certain spring in his step. Peter had wandered off to do some paper work, but Neal refused to leave Birdie's side. And when he saw Fowler's approach his hand gripped her coat protectively. Scarlett looked up to see what all the fuss was over, and met Fowler's eyes dead on. She recognized him immediately. In all her work to keep track of Neal she'd been thoroughly displeased with Agent Fowler's current involvement in Neal's life. No one else bothered with Neal, hell she'd even begun to think some of the agents (particularly those close to Peter) had taken a shine to him, but Fowler was up to something. And if Scarlett's intel was right, then it had a lot to do with what was currently going on. "I've got this Neal, I'm alright now," She whispered when she saw Fowler coming, and the predatory look he was giving her. There was going to be a fight if Neal had his way, and she wouldn't let it happen. If anyone was going to deal with Fowler, it was going to be her.

"But Birdie," Neal said firmly his eyes still on Fowler as he was fast approaching.

"Don't but Birdie me, you have work to do. I'm not here to hinder or distract you. Now off with you," Scarlett said giving him a playful shove. He still didn't seem to want to move. "Now," she said more firmly kissing his cheek, and shoving him a little harder. Neal only nodded, and walked away. He didn't move far, but far enough to please her. She was still in sight, and he didn't let his eyes stray. He didn't trust Fowler, especially with Birdie. For all he knew Fowler would try to slap the cuffs on her right then and there for being the Blackbird. Although, that would look a little suspicious wouldn't it? Yes, it probably would, but Neal wasn't really thinking of that at that point.

"Well, what kind of little bird has Caffrey brought in today? Is it bring your girlfriend to work day," Fowler asked circling her with an oily sneer on his face. Scarlett's chin remained inclined and she didn't allow him to make her feel like the prey. He had already given too much away.

"You listen to me Fowler, I know all about you," She said easily her eyes set in hard determination. The whole room fell silent, and seemed to watch the stand off between the much disliked agent, and the girl who'd just come in with Neal. Neal himself was frozen to his spot, he wanted to move to help her, but he couldn't get his feet to obey. Scarlett would later swear she could have heard a pin drop in the room. But she wasn't thinking about pins, or silence at that particular time. In fact her mind was only on the oily man before her that she intended to take down a peg.

"And what do you know little bird," He asked quirking a brow in amusement. It was easy to tell that Fowler was behind all of this somehow, because if he weren't he wouldn't know who Scarlett was at all. He wouldn't know she was Blackbird. He wouldn't know anything. But he was giving himself away. Scarlett felt a thrill of victory at that thought. He was giving himself away, and she was giving away nothing. She had him.

"Oh I know enough Fowler. Enough to get you into heaps and heaps of trouble." The smirk on Fowler's oily face was fading, and she advanced on him standing just before him her eyes set in a hard expression and her mouth set in a thin line. Neal's breath caught in his throat, his Birdie was so brave. She was so strong. She was ready to take on anything.

"How do you know anything," He snapped suddenly uncomfortable with the knowing look she was giving him. This woman knew things, and he didn't like it. It was clear that everything she was holding to herself could hurt him. Here he'd thought he'd been holding the winning hand, and now he wasn't so sure.

"I may not have done much talking in these past many years Fowler, but I've listened. You'll find I'm very good at listening. And little birds, we hear things," she whispered the last part patting his shoulder. There was a slow confident smile on her face that would scare anyone who had something to hide. Hell, it made Neal nervous and he didn't hide anything from Birdie. "I suggest you take a cue from me Fowler, and learn to listen. For I've something to say." Fowler was hanging on her every word now, his eyes wide and his face sullen. He was clearly scared now. Scared of what the little bird knew. Scared of what she could do to him. "You're not the only one who can plant evidence. And if you do anymore to hurt Neal or my son you'll find yourself behind bars for several art thefts you didn't commit. I may have been out of the game all these years, but I assure you I'm not out of practice." With that she turned on her heel, and strode away from him, head held high and mouth set in a confident smile. Fowler stood there for a long moment dumbfounded, and then strode away looking abashed and puzzled.

Lauren turned to Jones at that point with a grin on her face. "I don't know who she is, or what connection she has with Caffrey, but I like her," the grin stayed firmly on her face, and Jones looked a little surprised. He didn't think he'd ever see the day that Cruz would actually admit to liking another woman. Cruz always seemed to have a great distaste for those of her sex mostly due to the way they fawned over Caffrey. But this one had obviously shown her something that couldn't be dismissed.

Neal lead Scarlett over to where Jones and Cruz were standing a wide smile on his face. He was proud of her. And he was pleased that Birdie refused to be frightened by anyone. She was every bit the woman he remembered. "Birdie I'd-," He was cut off by Scarlett herself.

"Clinton Jones, and Lauren Cruz how nice to finally meet you," She extended her hand to each of them shaking their hands. They both looked at her wide eyed, and surprised. Neal couldn't help but wonder how Scarlett knew so much about everyone at the office. But then he supposed that could be chalked up to her keeping track of him. Scarlett had always been good at knowing things. She found things out better than Mozz even, so it should be no real surprise that she knew all his coworkers, especially those he worked closely with. "I'm Lucy," She introduced herself, and Neal sighed. More lies. That was the one thing about Birdie he hadn't missed, the lies. She couldn't just tell the truth for one entire day. But then he supposed that came with who she was. And if you were going to love the woman you had to love her lies and all.

"It's nice to meet you," Clinton offered with a wide grin. Scarlett returned the grin, shaking his hand firmly. She oozed the same kind of confidence Caffrey did, and Clinton didn't miss that. That may have been what attracted Neal to her. But then that had him wondering, what else did they have in common?

"Jones, Neal, now," Peter called from his office, and both men shot Scarlett an apologetic look before going up to Peter's office. Scarlett merely shrugged with a 'what can you do' look.

"So how do you know Caffrey," Lauren asked leaning against her desk, and looking over the woman. She definitely looked like Neal's type of girl. Of course every girl was Neal's type of girl, but this one had the same style, and the same class. And from what Lauren had seen she also had the same ability to piss off Fowler. That last one was what raised her in Lauren's book.

"Oh we're old friends," Scarlett shrugged. She knew she should be a little weary of Cruz. Cruz was the kind of woman who could get things out of people, and she seemed a little judgmental. Not that that ever bothered her, because Scarlett seemed to be able to get on the good side of all judgmental people. But it also worried her that Cruz was a feminist, the kind of woman who looked down on women who let men protect them. Lauren quirked a brow at the other woman, and Scarlett grinned sheepishly. "To be honest, we were together. A very long time ago."

"Oh so he's your ex then, you look mighty cozy for being exes," Lauren gave her a conspiratorial grin and bumped her shoulder. Scarlett decided she could quite like Lauren. She could almost see it her and Lauren, and Elizabeth drinking coffee and catching up like old friends. She'd never had any friends that were girls before. Not ones that she could really trust. She had never trusted Kate, especially with matters about Neal. There was always something in the woman's eyes that let Scarlett know that she couldn't trust Kate. Like Kate was just waiting for the right moment to spring her trap. But not Lauren and Elizabeth. Neither of them looked malicious in the least.

"Well, we were very close friends," Scarlett said with a grin.

"Cruz, and you too _Lucy_," Peter said from his office. He lead the two men to the conference room. Scarlett and Lauren exchanged looks and shrugged before going up the stairs to the room where Peter was sitting at the head of the table. Scarlett didn't think she liked the way Peter said Lucy. He was clearly angry with her for something. Well, what else was new? "Sit." He instructed once everyone was in the room. Neal shut the door firmly, and looked out to be sure no one was near the door. When he nodded Peter pulled out Blackbird's file.

"Oh yay, a pow wow all about me," Scarlett said with forced enthusiasm clapping her hands together. Neal shot her a warning look, and she frowned at him. Peter quirked a brow. "Oh let me tell the story won't you?" Peter nodded, and Neal frowned at her. "My name isn't Lucy. I'm the Blackbird." Eyes went wide and she frowned rolling her eyes. "Yes, the thief. The thief you're supposed to be proving stole this blasted guitar. Please like I'd waste my time on a guitar signed by," she looked at the picture of the piece a little closer. "Ha! By Michael Jackson." She started giggling uncontrollably. It took her several seconds before she had better control over herself, and took a deep breath. "It's clear the person who framed me for this doesn't have my taste in rock and roll." She snorted and Neal smirked at her from his place at the door. "Anyways, I didn't steal this thing. I've been out of the game for these past five years, and I wouldn't think of going back into it. I live quite happily off the money I made while I was working."

Jones and Cruz eyed the girl suspiciously. It was clear they didn't believe her. Peter swooped in at that second, "She's not lying. We've compared her signature to that on this piece, and found this one to be a fake. Plus there are other circumstances that prove she isn't lying." Scarlett was grateful to Peter for this, and it showed clearly on her face. Over the past couple of days it was clear he had grown to trust her.

"The current matter is that I, and my son are in danger. I came home a few days ago to find my home not at rights. Since then I've been threatened, and I fear for my life as well as that of my son's, he's five. But I refuse to live my life in fear, and not go about my day normally." Scarlett's eyes were set in a firm way that showed nothing but fearlessness. This was the kind of woman who would not be backed into a corner, and Cruz had to admire her for that.

"We need someone to stay with her during the day to be sure her and her son are safe," Neal concluded. Scarlett oddly felt like Neal was asking someone to babysit her, and she didn't like it. She'd be sure to mention this to him later.

"I'll do it," Cruz said perhaps too quickly. Everyone turned to look at her in surprise, but Lauren just shrugged them off. She couldn't help it, she wanted to get to know this woman better. She was the only con-woman who could outwit Caffrey, the only one who had never once been caught. Blackbird was a living legend in the schools she'd gone to, and never once had anyone told her that thief was a woman. Not to mention the proud way she'd stood up to Fowler, it was enough to intrigue anyone.

"Thank you," Scarlett smiled at the other woman, her blue eyes alight with real gratitude. Lauren merely nodded. The meeting went on as they discussed ways to figure out who was setting up Scarlett. It was well past lunch before the meeting was adjourned, and Peter and Neal escorted Scarlett to the museum. Scarlett stood in front of the fake guitar glaring at the piece with a frown on her face. She wouldn't have even looked at this piece. It wasn't worth anything to her. The history wasn't interesting. The person who'd signed it held no interest for her. She'd have sooner taken one of the other guitars signed by people like Bob Marley, or even Elvis. But never Jackson. She'd never liked him.

"Well," Peter asked standing beside her watching her moves clearly.

"I've taken something from here before. It was a painting, the piece has since been moved up town to another museum, and no one has ever been the wiser. I'd have never stolen something from here again. But when I did the first time I came up through the subway entrance that all the workers take. It was really very easy to avoid the lazy fat guard, and slip in and out. I then returned to the subway and escaped that way. I'd have taken the piece in a guitar case so it looked like I was just a traveling musician down in the subway. And I'd have worn normal street peddler clothes. If I was you, I'd look at the tapes for this subway stop." It was all said very calmly, and easily. Peter nodded, and Neal couldn't help but smile at her. She was good, better than him. She thought out everything to the letter. And it all sounded so easy, even if it wouldn't have been for anyone else. Scarlett was a small unassuming girl and people often over looked her. "Another thing," she said drawing their attention back. "This person was clumsy. They'll have left something behind, or have been seen. Talk to security, or the cleaning crew."

"How do you know that," Neal asked moving to stand next to her in hopes to see what she saw. But then Scarlett had always been able to see things far better than he could. He let his confidence blind him slightly, but Scarlett never had. She didn't get cocky like he did. She didn't get arrogant. She never thought she was better than she was, and she was very good.

"There are scratches on the base of the guitar, and a chip from it. When we came in I noticed that there was a nick in one of the walls on the way to this room. The person was also taller than me if that nick is any inclination, about Neal's height. That's it." Peter looked at her in some kind of wonderment. She was good, better than Neal. He'd probably go through cases like water if he had them both on his team. But it was pretty clear the Blackbird would never work for the FBI if she could help it. And she had other options. Elizabeth wanted her attention to detail, and style for event planning. There was no doubt in Elizabeth's mind it seemed that Scarlett would be an asset to her business. Peter kind of liked the way Scarlett was fitting into his life. She seemed to keep Neal's head in the game. She made him take things more seriously. And she really did care about people. Peter just prayed she stayed. He prayed she didn't leave Neal. Neal would be devastated. They needed her now, and Peter could see that. They all needed her.


	5. Adler

Neal had been staring at the photograph from the security footage for what seemed like ages. Nothing could call him away from it. Scarlett had made dinner. Vincent had sat in the floor and put together a puzzle. And still the weary conman sat staring down at the slightly blurred photograph of the person who had tried to frame his Birdie. He had to figure out who it was. And he knew who it was, that was the problem. He just couldn't put his finger on it. It was well into Saturday morning before Scarlett ordered him to bed. She refused to allow him to lose sleep over this, and confiscated the photograph until he started acting like a human being again. So he'd gone to bed at about four in the morning. He hadn't wanted to. And if it weren't for Scarlett telling him that if he took a break and looked at it in the morning with fresh eyes he may glean something more from it, he wouldn't have thought twice about sitting at the table until he figured out who it was. He slept soundly, very soundly. So soundly in fact that he didn't wake until twelve o'clock saturday afternoon. Birdie was standing at the counter making sandwiches and singing. The radio was on, but it was playing a song he'd never heard before, and a singer was singing, a man he didn't recognized. It had to be Birdie's music.

"Lord, I'd sacrifice my eyes; there's nothing else I'd rather see. And you can have my heart - it's of little use to me. And if you want my soul I'd throw it in for free. It's all I'm worth that's left since my angel got her wings. Now I'm down and on my knees; it's of little use to pray. Unless you give her back but there's no deals cut these days. They're only in my dreams," Birdie's voice filled the small apartment and somehow it felt like home. More like home than Neal had ever experienced. There in those small rooms, with the music playing, Vincent sitting at the table coloring, Birdie making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and he just waking up, it was home. As he sat up slowly the couch creaked, and Birdie stopped singing to turn to him. "I hope you're all caught up on you're sleep. Vincent wants to go to the park early tomorrow morning to fly kites, and seeing as you're our body guard I expect you'll come along." Neal blinked confusedly at her. He'd just woken up and already she was ordering him about? It was a little off putting, only a little. The reason it wasn't seriously off putting was because he realized she was a mother now, and she probably had to take the lead with Vincent constantly. "Sandwich?"

"Yes, please," Neal said groggily nodding his head. She nodded and turned back to her work. Neal rubbed his face anxiously, and moved to the table. "Can I have the picture back now?"

"Not until after lunch," was her answer. Neal couldn't help but grumble, she was treating him like a child. He knew why she was doing it, because he always acted like a child. But that didn't make it any less annoying. "Mozz will be here soon," she continued ignoring his grumbling. "I think he'd like to take a look at it. All three of us will sit down and wrack our brains for the answer once you eat something." Neal sighed a little, and the annoyance dissipated. She was taking this seriously, she just wanted what was best for him.

"We had buwberry pancakes this morning Mister Neal," Vincent chimed in completely cutting off the grown up conversation. "Yuw missed 'em. But I think mama is going to make them tomorrow too."

"Really?" The little boy nodded his head and smiled largely, his blue eyes twinkling. It was kind of hard not to be excited about blueberry pancakes when this little boy so seriously was. "Those are my favorite too." Scarlett rolled her eyes lightly, and flopped their sandwiches before them, then sat to eat with them. "Ah, good old turkey and provolone. You haven't forgotten." There was a knowing grin spreading across Neal's face. It was comforting that Birdie hadn't forgotten things like this. She didn't answer him, nor did she look at him, she just ate her sandwich. Scarlett was by no means going to encourage him to think that somehow they'd still work like they used to. They wouldn't. She was a mother now. And Neal either had to learn to be a father, or learn to get on without them. He had no other choice. The problem was, she wasn't going to tell him that. Scarlett wasn't going to force him to be something he didn't want to be. So either this brief stint of living together would change him, or they'd be gone again. "Did you have a look at the picture?"

"Not really. I figured that was your job as a consultant and all. But seeing as you couldn't figure it out in a single night Mozz and I will just have to pull our resources to help," She shrugged and continued on eating her lunch. Vincent was sitting there between them quietly coloring in his coloring book and eating his peanut butter and jelly. He'd managed to get it at the corners of his mouth, and when his mother handed him a napkin he refused to wipe his mouth till he was done. No point cleaning up just to become a mess again.

"I'm not incapable," Neal's eyes turned a little angry at her. He didn't like feeling like he couldn't help her, like he couldn't protect her. He wanted to be the man in the relationship and he wished she'd just let him do that. But then Scarlett had always had trouble with the roles of the man and woman. She didn't believe that men needed to protect women. Quite to the contrary she'd been known to throw a punch herself if the need arose, versus allowing Neal to do it for her. She wasn't a violent person mind you, she hated violence. But sometimes throwing a punch was necessary.

"I didn't say you were," she said easily standing and rinsing her dish in the sink.

"That's kind of what it sounded like," he grumbled moving to rinse his own plate, and grabbing Vincent's on the way. He was standing beside her at the sink, his side brushing her, and it was a little harder to concentrate on why he was annoyed with her when she was so close.

"No Neal, it kind of sounded like I thought you might need help, and Mozz and I know as many if not more people in our business as you do. Don't be sensitive about it." The retort was said with no venom, or sarcasm, but there was a quirked brow involved which probably had more to do with his closeness than the conversation. She was wondering what the hell he was doing. He seemed to be getting braver and braver with physical contact, which has always been the area that she had control over. She didn't think she liked it. It wasn't safe to allow Neal that kind of control. Scarlett was a bit of a control freak. She liked to have control over the relationships she had with people, over how much she let them control her. But with Neal it'd always been harder to maintain that control. There had always been something wildly thrilling, and painfully scary about that. And she couldn't allow herself to fall back into what they once were, not with Vincent.

"Thought you liked the sensitive types," it was said smoothly, and that suave charming smile tugged the edges of his mouth. Damn that Neal Caffrey. It would be so easy in that moment to fall back into who they used to be. So easy to chuckle, and reach up on her tip toes to plant a kiss along his jaw. It would all be so easy. But she couldn't do that, and she had to remind herself constantly she couldn't.

"Neal," a small smile spread across her face as she fought the urge to climb to her tip toes and press her lips to his. She patted his cheek, and then moved away from him. She moved to Vincent and helped him to wipe the peanut butter and jelly off his face, and Neal stood there watching her with his brows wrinkled. He was so confused. There used to be a time when that would have worked. There used to be a time when she would have leaned into him and let him hold her. Things had changed, and he wasn't sure he liked it. "Vincent, I need you to go sit in front of the couch and play. Mommy, Mister Mozz, and Mister Neal need the use of the table." Vincent nodded, and hopped up going to sit on the floor. At that point Mozz strode in, and Neal was still standing there confused.

"What's with him," Mozz asked pointing his thumb in Neal's direction as he flopped a thick manilla folder onto the table.

"Things have changed." Mozz quirked a brow at the cryptic way Blackbird said that. It was pretty clear she wasn't just talking about Neal's confusion. She had a deeper meaning, and Mozz really didn't like it. Things had changed. Of course they had, but that didn't mean they couldn't be the same on some level. Neal and Birdie were still largely the same people, so they could be the same on some level. But Mozz had this sickening feeling that Blackbird wasn't going to let that happen. She was keeping her distance. Mozz wasn't sure for what reason. It could be she was afraid of being hurt. Or she was afraid of hurting Neal. Or maybe she was afraid of Neal getting hurt for her. Either way it meant that Neal wasn't going to be getting what he wanted.

"That doesn't mean anything," Neal said swallowing hard against a lump in his throat. He knew what she meant. He knew when she said things have changed that she meant they couldn't be how they used to. Sure she'd allowed them to be the same the other night, but she wasn't going to allow it to happen again. She wasn't going to fall back into who they used to be. But it was clear in her eyes that she desperately wanted to. She wanted to be how they used to be. She just couldn't.

"It means everything," She whispered in return. Neal just shook his head, and Scarlett averted her eyes. She couldn't continue to look at him as the knowledge that this wasn't permanent sank in. He had to have known before now that this arrangement wasn't permanent, that she'd be leaving again. But she didn't think he'd thought about it.

"I brought some photos to compare to the footage, so we can pin point who this is," Mozz said awkwardly breaking the silence and sitting at the table. Scarlett nodded retrieving the picture of her copy cat from a drawer in the kitchen before she sat beside Mozz. It took Neal a little while to break from his thoughts. His mind was running a mile a minute, she was already thinking about when she'd be leaving. She was already planning her escape. He had to work fast. He had to prove to her that he was good for them. He needed to talk to Elizabeth! He'd have to call her up when Scarlett wasn't around, maybe she could slip in a good word for him. Elizabeth was always good at that sort of thing. That didn't mean he wanted them to stay with him here, he knew this place wasn't nearly big enough for the three of them on a regular basis. But he'd like to be able to see them more. To be able to take Birdie out. To be able to do things with Vincent. He'd like to be able to be there like he hadn't.

"You going to join us," Scarlett's voice broke his revelry in a testy tone. She clearly was sick of waiting for him to pull himself from his thoughts. Neal nodded, and sat with them. They poured over the folder of pictures for what seemed like hours. It was so late into the night that Scarlett had to make dinner, and coffee for them. Finally it was Neal who lighted on a photograph they'd missed, and sat it along side the picture from the security footage.

"Adler," Neal whispered almost afraid to speak too loudly for fear the damned man may hear him. "Coal Adler."

"The copycat," Blackbird asked standing beside Neal to get a better look. She bent over his shoulder examining them more closely, and frowning. "We should have known."

"You're right, we should have," Mozz said with a frown. "He's one of the worst there is. Doesn't have his own style. Is very clumsy. Yet, somehow never gets caught."

"Because he's never really stolen anything of value. He's a small time crook," Neal's frown deepened as he glared at the pictures sitting beside him. He had a hard time concentrating with Scarlett leaning over his shoulder, her perfume invading his senses. But he reminded himself over and over that this was to help her, and that without him she'd go to prison. The thought of Birdie in prison frightened him to death.

"I think I'm offended," Birdie said scowling at the pictures. The two men looked at her with concern etched on their faces. "Well obviously whoever set this whole thing up doesn't think very highly of me if they sent in this guy. I mean really, he's a small timer. He's clumsy. He always makes a mess of things. And he always copies someone else's style. I'm definitely offended."

"I'm sure it wasn't because they didn't think highly of you," Mozz said trying to be of some comfort. He wasn't sure why anyone would hire the Copycat to copy Blackbird. But he had a sinking feeling whoever it was wanted to be found out, and possibly found. Which worried him. What did they have planned for the Bird and her overly protective ex conman ex boyfriend? They should all be very worried. They should all be thinking on this. But it seemed only Mozz was considering it.

"No, that's exactly why. Whoever did this thinks I'm stupid. Well we'll see who's stupid," she had a spark of anger in her blue eyes that scared both Mozz and Neal. They didn't know what she thought she'd do about this, but they did know it probably wouldn't be good. Neal'd have to handle it first. And he'd already promised himself he would.

"Peter and I will go in and see him on monday. Maybe he'll tell us who he's working for." Neal's eyes were set firmly on the picture. He was definitely going to take care of this. No one framed his Birdie and got away with it. No one. Of course he wasn't thinking very clearly, he was so angry that they'd tried to frame her. He couldn't think about what the consequences of his actions would be. All he could think of was how he'd get the answers he wanted. All he could think of was clearing his Birdie. All he could think of was proving to her that he was a man and he could take care of them. Maybe this was a little ridiculous. Maybe this was a little crazy. But he needed to keep them in his life. He didn't care how he did it.

"And if he doesn't," Mozz asked unable to help himself. He could see the silent rage dwelling in his friend's eyes. That look meant Neal would do something stupid. Neal always did something stupid when it came to women. It seemed he couldn't control himself, especially when it came to Birdie. Blackbird was standing behind him so she couldn't see the look, otherwise she may tell him that Peter would be going to see Adler alone.

"He will," Neal concluded, and Mozz decided not to ask anymore. "We should get some sleep." Birdie nodded, as did Mozz. Mozz found himself being ushered out the door as the family settled in for bed. Neal was still angry about Adler, and so when Scarlett and Vincent settled into bed he went out on the balcony to pace, and cool off. Well, and to make a very important phone call. It was late but he was certain Elizabeth and Peter would still be up. And even if they weren't, well he was sure Elizabeth would understand. He was in dire straights here. He needed her expert opinion more than he'd ever needed anything.

It rang a few times, and then a groggy Elizabeth answered the phone, "Hello?"

"El, I need to talk," Neal said quickly. The sound of sheer necessity in his voice had Elizabeth rising from the couch where she'd been watching TV with Peter, and walking into the kitchen. Neal never sounded so desperate. He must really be in trouble. Or really be having trouble with Scarlett. She knew it'd come, the phone call where Neal asked for her advice on how to keep Scarlett. She just didn't think it would be this soon. It seemed they were both already thinking about when the case would be over and she could go home. And Neal didn't like the thought of his life without her in it again. Elizabeth had known the day after Neal had gone to that meeting in the bar that Neal's world had been turned upside down. Then the day Scarlett had appeared on her doorstep, Elizabeth had known that woman could be the one thing in the world that could turn Neal into a real man. Make him respectable. Make him act like an adult. Elizabeth couldn't explain how she knew it, but there was just something in the woman's eyes that told Elizabeth the whole story.

"What's the matter Neal," Her voice was light, and caring. Everything Peter's wouldn't be if it had been he who had answered the phone. Elizabeth was a good woman, a good friend, and she'd be able to help. She just had to be able to help.

"I have to prove to her that she can't leave me." His voice was serious, and rough with emotion. He'd really thought about this. There was no other option. He had to prove to Scarlett that he needed her, and that they needed him. Of course they didn't really need him. He knew they didn't. But oh how he needed them. He didn't think after this his life would ever be the same. He wouldn't be able to look at a woman the same. He wouldn't be able to think about anything else other than his Birdie and his son. Things would not be the same, and that scared him. Scarlett had popped right back up in his life and now nothing would ever be the same. Just like when she'd popped up the first time. That first day he'd met her he didn't think anything had changed, but looking back he realized she'd turned his life upside down. His world had changed so much since then, and he'd never even realized it until now. Scarlett had changed everything. "I... I can't live without them El."

Elizabeth sighed heavily into the phone. She had known this was coming, but it didn't make it easier. Poor Neal. The man knew he needed them, but he just didn't know how to prove that he could be good for them. "You have to prove you can be good for them."

"I know that," He answered impatiently drumming his fingers on the railing. "The question is how."

And that was the question Elizabeth didn't know how to answer. She didn't know this woman well enough to know what this woman needed to see from Neal. She didn't know what would prove to this woman that Neal had grown up. "Neal, you know her better than I do. I'm so sorry I can't be more helpful. Just show her that you're not going anywhere. You're stable now, and not just because you have to be. You can be there when they need you to be, and even when they don't. I know that's not helping, because it's not telling you exactly what to do. But you know Scarlett far better than I ever could. You know what makes her tick. You have to figure out what she needs you to do. I'm so sorry." She really sounded sorry too. Like she wished she could be more helpful, and she did. Elizabeth knew the things that had proved to her that Peter was in it for the long run, but she wasn't Scarlett. They were two very different people. If they were alike Scarlett wouldn't even be with Neal.

"It's alright El. I understand. I just – I don't know what to do." He ran a hand through his hair mussing it into disarray, and making him feel exceedingly worse. Looking frazzled only made him more frazzled. "I'm sorry I bothered you with this El."

"Don't mention it Neal. If I could be of more help I would be. You get some sleep." Elizabeth waved off Peter when he came into the kitchen, and they both hung up after Neal said a brief goodbye.

The problem was, even though he'd spoken to Elizabeth about Scarlett he couldn't sleep. His mind kept drifting, and not in the good way. Every time he closed his eyes he either saw Birdie behind bars, or her gone from his life completely. It was too easy for him to see her just up and leaving again. She'd done it before and she'd done a fine job of disappearing. It would be nothing for her to do it again. And then he'd be left with nothing. No son. No crazy ex turning his world upside down. Nothing. And he just couldn't deal with that. Of course he couldn't deal with her being put behind bars either. Birdie wouldn't survive behind bars. She needed air to breathe. She needed grass to run across. She needed space. Putting her behind bars would be like catching a sparrow and putting it in a bird cage. It was just inhumane, and wrong. She'd die in there. That would be far worse. He didn't end up sleeping at all that night. And when the morning rolled around he drowsily went through the day at the park of kite flying. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the time with Scarlett and Vincent when they weren't constantly trying to solve the case, it was just that he was tired. Scarlett seemed to get that and didn't push him. That night, however, she sent him to bed early and refused to hear anything of him staying up later. She said it wasn't healthy, living on no sleep. And she'd even kissed his cheek as she tucked him in with a quilt. That had been enough to coax him into sleep.

It was by no means a restful sleep, he tossed and turned all night his mind still full of Birdie behind bars, and Birdie disappearing. A few nights back he had slept better than he had in a very long time. With Birdie laying beside him it was like everything he'd ever bothered to worry about suddenly didn't matter anymore. Birdie was safe. He was safe. And they were together. That was enough for him to sleep like a log. He didn't attribute the good nights sleep to all the champagne he'd ingested, or the sex he'd had after a very long time without any. No it was because Birdie was laying beside him. Everything was less complicated in a world where Birdie curled up beside him and allowed him to hold her. He didn't know how it was less complicated, because to tell the truth since Birdie had fallen back into his life everything had become more complicated, but it just seemed that way. Like everything was right in the world. Like everything made sense. He was crazy, and he knew it. But that didn't really matter much. He was roused awake by Birdie herself. His eyes opened to see her face down at his level just inches away from his. "You're going to be late for work if you don't get up Neal."

"Damn," Neal grumbled blinking hard, and sitting up. "You let me sleep in past my alarm?"

"You were sleeping soundly for the first time in a couple of days," was her only reply. She didn't even bother explaining it further, or trying to really justify it to him. Scarlett was already up, already dressed, and already ready for her day. Vincent was sitting at the kitchen table eating some eggs and bacon. His blue eyes were looking out onto the cityscape just outside the balcony. He seemed mesmerized, transfixed.

"I really didn't sleep all that well," Neal admitted rising to his feet, and moving to the bedroom to grab his things. Scarlett blinked at him in confusion, and quirked a brow in question, following behind him eyes questioning. "Just some nightmares," he explained trying to escape that enquiring look by going into the bathroom and shutting the door. He didn't want to tell her what his nightmares were about. He didn't want her to know he was scared he'd lose her. He didn't want her to know that he needed her oh so much. It scared him to need someone as much as he needed Scarlett. She didn't give up though, she was waiting at the door with that look still on her face when he came out of the bathroom. "I'm going to be late."

"You're going to be more late if you don't tell me what these nightmares were about." Her eyes were insistent and she was tapping her toe on the hardwood. Her arms were crossed across her middle, and he sighed. He knew that look. That was the you're not going anywhere until I get some answers look.

"Not now Birdie," He sighed heavily running a hand through his hair. "I can't be late for work." One thin red brow rose not in question, but in challenge. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now. "Bye Vincent."

"Bye Mister Neal," Vincent turned to them and waved with a large smile.

"Bye bye Birdie," Neal bent and kissed her cheek, and then rushed out before she could trap him again. It was too easy for her to corner him. Too easy for her to get what she wanted. When she wanted answers she got them, whether he liked it or not. Birdie had always had more control over him than any other woman, even Kate. He didn't know how she did it, but he did know she didn't exercise that control much. Not unless she really believed it necessary. And apparently his nightmares deemed it necessary to use that control she had. Neal strode into the office his shoulders slouching a little and his jaw clenched. And Peter could see it, his partner was under stress.

"What happened," Peter asked falling into stride with his friend as they went up to his office.

"Nothing. Just a rough night. Had some nightmares," Neal brushed it aside pulling out the photograph of Coal Adler and flopping it onto Peter's desk. "This is your guy."

"Nightmares? About what?" Peter had honed in on the one thing Neal didn't want to talk about. As he often did. As Scarlett always had. It was a little unsettling how well both of them knew Neal. What was more unsettling was the fact that it kind of comforted Neal to know that they knew him so well.

"That's irrelevant," Neal said pointing to the photograph, and trying to draw the attention away from him. He needed to be sure those nightmares didn't come true. And the only way to do that was by proving Adler did it, and finding out who hired him. Of course if he did that Scarlett may disappear again. But at least she wouldn't be behind bars, where she'd surely die. That was enough reason to do it. Neal would surely not be able to function properly once she was gone again. But at least he'd function better than he would if she were dead. A world without Birdie in it, was no world at all.

"I think it's very relevant," Peter said putting on his trademark interrogating face. Neal knew that face, it meant he wasn't going to be getting away without giving Peter an answer.

"They were about losing Birdie. Alright? Now can we please go see Adler before he gets away? This is the only way to be sure those nightmares don't come true." Peter looked at Neal for a long moment, searching for something. Whatever it was, he found it, and he nodded before grabbing his coat. No more words were spoken as they made their way to the address of one Coal Adler. He was another thief the FBI kept an eye on. So Peter knew where he was staying. When they pulled up in front of the run down apartment building Neal sighed. "Small time crook. I can't believe they hired this guy to mimic Birdie. He's not even good enough to wipe the dirt off her shoes," Neal said angrily, his eyes lighting with the same rage as the words rolled out of his mouth.

"Woah there killer," Peter said putting a hand across his chest before he could jump out of the car. "You need to take a breather. You can't go in there angry and expect to get the answers you want. You have to be level headed otherwise he'll never talk." Neal took a deep breath, and appeared as if he'd calmed himself. He hadn't really, but he put up the facade so Peter wouldn't stop him anymore. Both men got out of the car, and strode into the building. By the time they were in front of Adler's door Neal's blood was positively boiling. This man had set up his Birdie. This man was going to get his Birdie put away. He wouldn't allow it. Peter knocked on the door, and when Coal answered it flashed his badge. Coal was an average height man. But he was gangly, and awkward in a way thieves usually weren't. He wore thick glasses, and had bright red hair. Thieves were always people who could blend in, no wonder Coal was so bad at it. This guy would stand out like a sore thumb at any function where anything of value could be stolen. He didn't have the same suave cool charming demeanor Neal, and Scarlett sported.

"Caffrey," Coal said an awkward smile spreading across his face. "What a pleasant surprise." The man moved back to allow them to enter. Neal watched him with something like disgust clearly written on his face. This man should have become a computer hacker instead of an art thief. Of course then one could assume he didn't have the brains to become a computer hacker. Coal wasn't very smart, period.

"We're not here to play games Adler," Neal growled out, and Peter watched him carefully from the corner of his eye. It was clear Neal was looking for any reason to beat the living hell out of this Coal kid.

"Who hired you," Peter cut to the chase. He didn't have all sorts of time to wait. Otherwise Neal would do something stupid. Very stupid.

"Hired me for what," Coal asked moving to sit in an old cracked leather chair. It was very clear he was enjoying this. He thought this was fun. He also was enjoying seeing Neal squirm.

"To frame Birdie," Neal bit out restraining the urge to use brute force to get answers. He'd never used brute force before. He didn't condone violence. It just wasn't in him to get his hands dirty like that. But Coal had framed Birdie. And Coal was enjoying the thought of Birdie being put away for something he did. It was so clear on his face that it scared Neal.

"Oh dear, you're still in love with Blackbird aren't you? You know I'd heard she resurfaced. I heard she has a kid now. No wonder it's you who showed up at my door ready to pound my face in to get answers to clear her. She always did have a way of weaseling her way into the hearts of men." Coal's face was really starting to make Neal angry. Like blindly angry. Like so enraged that he'd be willing to rip every strand of his greasy red hair out of his head. It wasn't fair that Birdie was having to hide out while this little shit roamed the streets not even afraid of what may happen to him.

"Don't talk about her like that," Neal practically spat. Everything was going pear shaped in the worst way. He couldn't think clearly. He couldn't concentrate. He'd never truly been this angry in his life. He didn't know what it was about Scarlett that brought out this kind of anger, but he couldn't control it.

"And why not? Oh that's right because you've been screwing her recently. Well I've got news for you Neal, you're not the only man she's ever been with. I'll have you know before she met you she screwed around a lot. She was quite the little whore in our business."

And that was it. Neal was on him in seconds. No one called his Birdie a whore, no one. Neal got a few good punches in before Peter was pulling him off the little man. That's when Coal socked Neal right in the eye, and then took another shot at his stomach. Neal only growled in return trying to get free from Peter, and hit the man again. "Let me go Peter. Let me hit him just once more. He deserves it."

"I know he does Neal, but he's not going to tell us what we want to know if you knock him unconscious. Now calm down." Neal took a deep breath, and when Peter released him he straightened his clothes and glared at Coal. Coal only looked smug. A large dark welt was starting to appear around Neal's eye, and that was enough for the little weasel to feel proud.

"You don't hit a man when his friend is pulling him off you," Neal said a deadly calm entering his voice. Those few hits had felt good. Some of the anger had dissipated. And the busted lip on the oily little man before him only made him feel better. He'd done something about it. He didn't know how effective it'd be, but he'd done something.

"Yeah well, I don't play by the rules," Coal shrugged his shoulders. "Now you boys can run along. I have no intention of telling you who hired me." Peter looked at Neal with something like remorse evident in his eyes. They couldn't do anymore than what they'd done. They couldn't prove it was Coal yet, not from a blurry photograph. They couldn't arrest him. And they didn't know who he was working for.

"We'll keep in touch," Peter said practically dragging Neal out with him. When they reached the car Neal flopped in and slammed the door. "You need to learn to control yourself. This girl has you wound up so tight you don't even realize what you're doing. You're not going to be able to help her if you keep letting your emotions get in the way." Peter was lecturing, Neal hated lecturing. He especially hated lecturing when it was clear that Peter was right. As was this case in particular. "Besides, what is she going to say when she sees that black eye? She's not going to be happy."

Neal sighed running a hand through his hair, "You're right. Birdie is going to be furious when she sees this. She hates violence, and she told me not to get into trouble." Peter nodded, and patted his friend's shoulder in an attempt to be some comfort. "Please, just don't lecture me anymore. She'll be giving me an earful when I get back anyways." Peter nodded in understanding. Elizabeth would have his ass if she found out he'd gotten into a fight trying to protect her honor. Sure, she'd find it a little sweet. But she wouldn't let that show. It would be all "you're an idiot Peter. You should control your temper Peter. What the hell has gotten into you Peter?" He loved her, that he knew. But sometimes that woman could drive him positively up the wall with things like that. The rest of the day went about normally. So normally Neal almost forgot entirely that he had a black eye. Sure, it stung a little when he blinked. And it was puffing up so badly he was having a hard time seeing out of it. But that didn't matter because he was on the case to finding out who had hired Coal. They'd pulled his phone records, and his cell phone records and were going through all the numbers. It went a little slower without Lauren to help. But she was keeping watch on Scarlett, who had taken Vincent to the park again. Neal found this out via text message because he needed to know what she was doing while he was working. It was quickly becoming an obsession. He missed them when he was at work. He thought about them constantly. They had quickly become a normal part of his life. The day went so normally that by the time he walked through the door to find Scarlett working on dinner, and Vincent sitting in the living room watching the history channel, he'd forgotten about his black eye entirely.

"How did the meeting with Adler go," Scarlett asked from her place behind the stove not even bothering to look up. She was working on making spaghetti, mostly because it was easy and she didn't know how to cook anything more complicated. The kitchen table was a mess, Vincent had his coloring things sprawled all over it. But none of this bothered Neal. Nor did it bother him that there were two more coats hung on the coat rack. A little blue peacoat, and a woman shaped black trench. It was comforting how like a home this place was becoming.

"He wouldn't talk," Neal answered with a frown. The memory of the meeting came flooding back in a rush, and his head spun a little at it. He had tried to avoid thinking about it. It just made him upset, and angry. Especially remembering the smug look on Coal's face when he called Birdie a whore.

"I figured he wouldn't. He's a weasel, but you have really nothing to offer him to make him roll over on who he's working for. That's-" She stopped mid sentence when she turned and finally got a good look at him. In seconds she was across the room, standing right before him, and holding his face in between her hands. It felt so good he didn't bother to think why she was doing it. Scarlett examined the bruised flesh around his eye. "Did you get into a fight with Adler?"

Neal gulped audibly, he knew what was coming, "Well yeah. But he called you a whore Birdie. I couldn't just let him do that. And he only got a hit in because Peter pulled me back, and then he took a cheap shot at me."

"Well this is Adler we're talking about. He's a weasel." She said noncommittally before moving away from him to go retrieve some ice from the freezer, and put it in a rag. She was back before him in the blink of an eye, and Neal began to wonder how she moved so fast. She carefully placed the ice on his eye, and he winced lightly. "For the swelling."

"I'm sorry I got into a fight Birdie. I know you don't like them. And I know I shouldn't have-." He looked at her oddly. Why wasn't she lecturing him? Why was she caring for him? She should have been yelling at him. She should have been furious with him. And yet there she stood just looking at him with compassion.

"You look guilty enough," She answered the unasked question. "Now go lie down on the couch. You need rest after getting into a fight." He did as told. It was kind of easy to do as told when she wasn't screaming at him. He didn't know what happened next, but he must have fallen asleep. It must have been the noises in the apartment. It must have been Scarlett's humming, and Vincent's quiet talking as he asked her questions about the first world war. It must have been the easy air. Or the smell of food. Or Scarlett's perfume. It must have been the combination of all these things that allowed him to feel safe in that moment. Safe enough to drift off in a very restful sleep. When he woke up the sun had set, and the apartment was quiet. Scarlett was sitting in the arm chair beside him, her head resting in her hand and her breathing slow. She must have fallen asleep there. That too was comforting. Knowing that she would be there when he woke up. Knowing that she could drift off in his presence. Knowing that she was safe. He had the most uncontrollable urge to pick her up, and pull her onto the couch with him. To snuggle into her. To bury his face in her hair. To know that she was there. She was real. She wasn't just a dream coming back to haunt him. She was actually there, and she wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

He rose from the couch, the springs creaking under him. Scarlett stirred and opened her eyes groggily to look at him in a confused fashion. "It's alright Birdie. It's just me moving around," Neal said in a hushed tone. She seemed to nod, but still looked only half awake.

"Are you feeling alright," Scarlett whispered leaning forward to examine him. Her blue eyes looking for any traces of pain, or injury other than the obvious. It was clear in that moment that she was a mother, and had been one for long enough to develop the need to care for others. Of course she'd always been that way. Especially with Neal. She looked after him. She always had. When he came home drunk after a close call. Or when he couldn't concentrate on his work. She was there looking over his shoulder giving him whatever he needed.

"I'd feel a lot better if you'd come lay with me." There was no charming smile. There was no smooth voice. Just honest eyes that really showed an honest need to be close to her. He'd never been able to hide things from Scarlett. She saw everything. She saw raw emotion. She saw who he really was. Under all the charm, she knew what he was. She knew when he was scared. She knew when he was happy. She knew when he was troubled. She knew when he was sad. She always knew. He didn't know how. It was like she could see right down into his soul. It was like she knew him better than he knew himself. He missed that. He missed being with her, and knowing he didn't have to explain things to her. He missed having someone who just knew him. Kate had never known him how Birdie had. He assumed that's why things had been so different between them. It was hard to have the same connection with someone who didn't know you.

"Tell me about your nightmares first," Scarlett said leaning her head back on her hand to look at him curiously. She quirked a brow in interest, but the caring look didn't leave her face. She was worried about Neal. She didn't know what would happen to him when she left him. She didn't know who would take care of him. She didn't know who would look after him. At least before she'd known he had Kate. Now he didn't have anyone, and that made things hard. She knew she needed to leave. It's what was best for them all. Neal wouldn't be happy if he was tied to them. He'd grow to hate and resent them. And with that came Scarlett's deepest fear, that he'd grow to be a drunk like her father. That he'd grow abusive. She couldn't let Neal turn into that. And on top of it, she couldn't let Vincent go through it. She was protecting them all by leaving.

Neal sighed and ran a hand through his already mussed hair. Ah, Scarlett. When she wanted something she'd get it. "It was about you actually. About you leaving me, or even being locked up. I don't want you to go Birdie. I don't want to lose you both."

"Neal," she said in an exasperated tone averting her eyes trying to think clearly. It was hard to think with Neal's eyes begging her. She had always been a sucker for him. It had never happened with anyone else in her life other than her son. But she was a sucker for Neal. He was her weakness. If he asked her to do something she'd be hard pressed to tell him no. She'd never be able to deny him anything. Except maybe this. "We can't stay. You know we can't. I'm not going to talk to you about this anymore. As for prison. I'm not going to prison. I'll disappear before they can arrest me." Neal only nodded numbly. He knew they couldn't stay, but that didn't mean he didn't want them to. Maybe he could find a way to change things. He still wasn't sure he wanted to live with them, he was still scared he'd make an awful father and he'd completely botch things with Scarlett. But something in him told him he had to try. "Now, get some sleep." He nodded, and opened his arms for her to curl up in front of him. She sighed but moved to lay beside him anyways. If this was the only way he'd get any sleep, then she'd put up with being the teddy bear for now. She could live with it for now. They both drifted off easily. Scarlett couldn't help but drift off. She'd planned to stay awake until he'd fallen asleep and then she was going to move to bed with Vincent. But it was just so easy with Neal right there. With his cologne surrounding her and making her feel comfortable, and safe. It was just too easy. That's what scared her. This was all too easy. Everything was too easy. Finding Coal was too easy. Being with Neal was too easy. This whole hiding from Kate thing was too easy. It was too easy. Something was bound to go wrong yet. Something was bound to go horribly horribly wrong.


	6. Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

First off I'm sorry this took so long. I got started on some other projects and bloody well lost track of the string for this one. I'm back on it, but it'll be slow for now, I'm going through some rough shit at home. I would have had this up as of the beginning of this week had this family business not come up. So yeah, enjoy m'loves. Comments are good, praise is brilliant, and I love all you guys who have commented already!

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Scarlett slipped off the couch before anyone could wake. She didn't want to answer questions about Neal to Vincent. She didn't want Neal to think he'd won. She had to make breakfast. All these excuses and more would be the ones she would tell people if they asked. But the real reason was that it was scary how easy it was. It scared the living Hell out of her how well she'd slept. It scared the living Hell out of her how comfortable she was squished onto the couch with him. Being squished like that shouldn't be so comfortable. Any logical person would have felt the lack of space annoying, binding, hindering, and a nuisance. But not to Scarlett. To Scarlett it was safe, and warm there pushed so close to Neal. It was comforting. And that's what scared her. She couldn't let herself fall back into this. If she did everything would go so pear shaped, there was no proof that it would. She hadn't stayed before, and so she had no real reason to believe that it would all turn out badly. But she was afraid it would. She was afraid he'd hate her. She'd rather leave him with a fond memory than allow him to grow to hate her. There was a knock at the door as she was pulling the things out to make french toast for breakfast. Scarlett pulled her robe tighter, and opened it.

"Oh, Lucy, I didn't expect you to be up so early," June said surprise written clearly across her face.

"Please, call me blackbird, June." Scarlett said moving to allow the older woman to enter.

"Blackbird, I'm sorry I forgot." June amended bowing her head, but Scarlett just shrugged it off. "Oh, Neal is still asleep," she said looking over to see Neal spread on the couch still in his suit from yesterday, hair mussed.

"Yes, he had a long few days. He didn't sleep much over the weekend. Was there something you needed?" Scarlett felt a little useless standing in June's house and treating her like a guest. It was strange. Scarlett wondered how Neal dealt with it. June should be able to come and go as she pleased. Instead she acted as if she was a guest in this part of the house. Scarlett didn't like it. She'd prefer it if June felt at home in this part of the house.

"Well Sophia called out sick this morning, so I just thought I'd let him know that he will have to fend for himself like the rest of us." June was smiling looking at the younger woman. There was something about Blackbird that reminded her so much of herself. Something in her eyes that stated clearly that this woman before her was strong, independent, and would keep Neal on the right track while still being able to allow him to be who he was. This woman would do for Neal what June had done for her husband. That was comforting. Neal needed a woman who understood him.

"Well if that's the case then you should join us for breakfast. I'll surely have enough for one more, and we have plenty of room. I'm making french toast." Scarlett's face brightened at the chance to get to know the woman who'd taken in her Neal. The woman who'd looked after Neal since he'd gotten out of prison. Scarlett desperately wanted to get to know her.

"Oh no, I couldn-"

"Nonsense. I insist," Scarlett waved her off with a wide smile. "Besides, I'd like very much to get to know you better. From what Neal has told me, you have a great fondness of bad boys." The smile spread impossibly wider. There was something charming about that smile, June couldn't help but think. So much like Neal's, the same charm, the same grace. Although, the same could be said for June herself. There was something in her step that spoke of nothing but confidence. She was the kind of woman who got what she wanted.

"Ah, that," June said a conspiratorial smile stretching her lips as she took a seat at the table. Scarlett moved to begin breakfast, her back going to June. But that didn't mean she wasn't paying attention. She was listening carefully, very carefully. June seemed to know the secret to life. June seemed to have gotten a handle on this life the way Scarlett hadn't been able to. Scarlett hoped to glean something from it. She hoped to learn how to live this life, and keep a family. "Yes, well my husband was a bit of a bad boy. Much like Neal, charming, cunning, suave. I must say they're my weakness."

"I see we have something in common then," Scarlett laughed lightly turning to grin at her. June's brows shot up in question. And Scarlett realized her mistake, turning quickly back to her bowl she'd been mixing eggs and cinnamon in a small blush tainted her cheeks.

"I thought you weren't Neal's girlfriend," June asked her voice interested and her eyes wide. Ah, so that was the answer. That made perfect sense. A woman like Blackbird, and Neal. It was right. Very right. And this Blackbird, she would not cage up Neal. She would allow Neal to be free. But in the same turn she would require Neal to be an adult. She would make him want to be better, for her and her son. She would be good for him. And June would wager that he'd be good for her as well. He could show her that people weren't always so bad. He could show her that she could trust people. He could keep her safe. Neal would be good for Blackbird. And Blackbird would be good for Neal. And June would give every bit of support the young family needed.

"I'm not," Scarlett said clearing her throat. "What I mean to say is, we were together at a time. When we were both much younger, and the world seemed much brighter. Things were simpler then. I somehow forgot my past in the wake of Neal's bright future. But things are different now. I have Vincent, I can't fall into false hope and allow him to be sucked under as well." Blackbird's head hung a little as she returned to drenching the bread in the mix she'd made. There was something shameful about the decision she was making. She didn't want to make it. She wasn't proud of it. She knew it would only hurt Neal. She knew it would only hurt herself. But she prayed it would save Vincent. What she was saving him from, she didn't quite know. But she knew it had to be something. Maybe she wanted to save him from what she had experienced.

June watched her, and the smile on her face faltered. She was going to leave Neal? No this wasn't right. She couldn't leave Neal. If she left Neal his world wouldn't be right. Who would turn Neal into the man he needed to be? "You can't seriously be thinking of leaving him. He needs you, now more than ever. He needs someone to be strong for him. He needs someone to care for him. Blackbird," June said in a tone that caused Scarlett to turn and meet her eyes. "Neal needs you."

"I appreciate your advice, but this isn't about Neal, or myself. This is about Vincent. Neal," Scarlett sighed running a hand through her hair trying to think. "Neal isn't stable. I'm not saying Neal isn't a good man. He is. He tries, lord does he try. I know he does. And I know he wants to be good for Vincent, and for myself. But he's just not stable. He's not ready to be a father, or a serious life partner. He's not ready. He's still a child in so many ways." Scarlett's voice was remorseful. She really was saddened by the fact that Neal was not ready to be what she needed him to be. She wished he was. She wanted him to be ready to be what she needed. But he just wasn't.

"It is my experience that men like Neal, like my husband they never do really seem ready for it." June touched the younger woman's hand in compassion, and understanding. "And he may not be ready right now, but you'll know it when he is. There will be a sign, and you'll just know it."

"How can you be so sure he will ever be ready? He's such a child." Scarlett's brows were knitted together. June knew things. People had always looked into Scarlett's eyes and said that she knew things. Well June did too. There were certain things that some people just knew. Scarlett just knew the night was darkest before the dawn. June just knew that men like Neal grew up to make good husbands and great fathers. No one can explain how they knew these things, they just did. As sure as the sun would rise, June and Scarlet just knew these things. It was almost scary, sitting them side by side and looking at the things they had in common.

"He will. He loves you both. Just as my husband loved us. Because of that he'll become the man you need him to be. Trust me." It was said with such conviction that Scarlett had no choice but to believe June. This woman knew, and Scarlett would just have to wait for that sign that Neal was ready to be the man they needed. She hoped he hurried the hell up and got ready. Otherwise she'd be gone by the time he did. She wasn't going to wait around forever.

"Miss June," Vincent squealed running from the bedroom in to stand beside June with a wide grin on his face. "What are you and mama talking about miss June?"

"Well we're discussing Mister Neal," June said a smile stretching her face. Scarlett resisted the urge to glare at the older woman. She didn't want Vincent knowing about everything going on between her and Neal. Things were complicated enough right now without having to answer questions about their relationship. Instead of glaring, she turned back to the toast, and realized she'd burnt the first two pieces.

"Well Hell," Scarlett grumbled scrapping the burnt pieces into the trash, and trying to scrape the burnt on bread off the pan so she could continue to use it. This was not a good start to the day.

"Is that burnt toast I smell," Neal asked sitting up and frowning a little. "Don't burn the house down Birdie. Some of us kind of live here."

"You're hilarious Neal. Really, my sides are splitting with how hard I'm laughing. Go take your shower Mister Man." She mocked glaring at him over her shoulder. Neal raised his hands in surrender and disappeared into the bedroom to collect his things, and then into the bathroom.

"What about Mister Neal," Vincent asked sitting beside June in the seat furthest from his mother so he could watch her make breakfast. He'd been watching a lot recently. When his mommy thought he was coloring. Or Mister Neal thought he was watching TV. He was watching them. And he'd picked up on a few things. His mommy had a light in her eyes he'd never seen before. She seemed happier, lighter almost, and he wasn't sure why. The only reason he could deduct would be Mister Neal himself. Mister Neal seemed to like his mama a lot, and Vincent still wasn't sure how he felt about it. Don't get him wrong Mister Neal was a nice enough guy, but Vincent just wasn't sure he was the man for his mama.

"Well about Mister Neal and your mother of course," June said easily and then looked at Scarlett in confusion.

"She means about us going on that date the other day." Scarlett said cutting June a look that obviously said Vincent didn't know anything about Neal, and her past. He didn't know Neal was his father. He didn't know Neal and Scarlett had been together. And she'd like to keep it that way. "She just wanted to know how it went."

"Well how did it go," Vincent asked turning his calculating eyes on his mother. Scarlett hated it when he did that. It was like the little boy was reading everything she wasn't saying. Like he understood the deepest darkest things about her that she kept hidden. That was the feeling she'd gotten when she first met Neal, and anytime Neal was asking questions about things she didn't want to talk about. Like Neal could just read her. It had to have been the eyes.

"It went fine Jude. We got caught up." She concluded before turning back to the stove to flip over the toast.

"Caught up on," June prompted. Scarlett groaned inwardly. It seemed June, and Vincent were conspiring to make this the worst morning ever. And to get things out of her that she didn't feel like sharing.

"Caught up on what has happened since we last saw each other. Aside from Neal going to prison there wasn't much for him to tell. So it was mostly me doing the talking. I told him all about your painting Jude, and when you learned to tie your shoes, and to say your alphabet." Scarlett smiled a little flopping some toast onto a plate.

"You paint," June asked turning to the little boy with her eyes wide. She knew Neal did a little painting sometimes, but she hadn't thought that particular kind of thing was hereditary.

"Mhm, mama taught me. And she taught me aww about the im-prest-ist," he sounded the word out slowly. "Oh and Vincent Van Gough. I know aww about him. He's one of mama's favorites."

"Really? What do you know about him," June was very impressed by the little boy and his extensive knowledge of painting. It kind of made sense, Neal's son knowing the history of art as well as he knew his alphabet.

"Well did yuw know he ate his oiw paints." June's eyebrows shot up in amazement at this, and Vincent smiled nodding along. "He was too poor."

"Like Neal, I have a great interest in history, particularly art history. I actually earned a degree from a university in history, with a minor in art history." Scarlett said putting a plate of french toast onto the table before them. She felt she needed to explain why Vincent knew so much about art. It was unusual for a little boy of five to know so much history already, and to be so interested in these kinds of things. "Neal, and I used to be in the same business. That's how we met." June nodded at this in sudden understanding. It all made sense. Things clicked into place along with the knowledge that Blackbird had been in the business of conning, and thievery. That made sense. Vincent chattered idly about other artists as they ate breakfast. Neal joined them at some point, and then he ran off to work.

June stayed a while longer. Vincent had gone to get ready for the morning when June turned to Scarlett who was cleaning the dishes and said, "Just think about what I said please. Neal deserves some happiness as much as the rest of us do. He's a good man. Just give him a chance." With that cryptic message June left Scarlett to her dishes, and to her thoughts. Scarlett was a thoughtful person by practice. She preferred to think things out before she committed to them. That is where her and Neal differed. Neal did things by instinct, he never thought. She took considerably longer to make decisions. She had to weigh her options. She had to think of what was best for Vincent. She had to think of what would cause everyone the least pain. And with this situation with Neal she had all this and more to consider.

"Knock knock," Lauren called into the apartment as the door creaked open. Scarlett looked up, and nodded her in her blue eyes looking still foggy and thoughtful. "Something wrong?"

"Just thinking. Listen, Bluejay should be out soon, can you watch him while I get ready? I have an interview with El today." Scarlett's voice was still distant and distracted. She was thinking entirely too much on what June had said. That woman had really gotten to her. There was no doubt about it. Scarlett couldn't help but think what things would be like if she allowed Neal back into their lives permanently. It's not something she'd ever thought about. She'd always thought she could just leave him and things would go back to normal. But now she began to wonder if they could go back to normal. If she could escape Neal as she had the first time. If things would be different. If Neal could be different. If he could grow up and be the man they needed. She wondered all these things, and she was so distracted she hadn't realized Lauren was talking to her. "I'm sorry Lauren, what were you saying?"

"Are you sure you're alright. You sound very distracted. Did Neal do something?" Lauren had that look on her face that said she'd bash Neal around if he'd done something to really upset Scarlett. Over the past few days the two women had developed an odd friendship. It was the closest thing to a real friend Scarlett had ever had. Between Lauren and Elizabeth, Scarlett actually thought she may be developing some real human relationships.

"No, no it wasn't Neal. June just said something, and it made me think about this whole situation, and what I'm going to do once my name is cleared." Lauren nodded in understanding, and watched Vincent when he returned to the living room after getting ready for the day. But she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this Blackbird wasn't telling her. They'd become friends of sorts in the past few days, and Lauren felt somehow responsible for Blackbird. It was so easy to like and care for the other woman. And when you were as independent as Lauren was, and as observant given her FBI status you kind of noticed things about other people. And Lauren had noticed that Blackbird was not as strong as she made herself seem. No, the other woman had weaknesses, big ones. Problems that were bigger than her compulsive need to lie. Problems that probably were much like Neal's, and Neal's inability to sit still. The two seemed like they were always running from something. Something was always chasing them. Lauren just couldn't figure out what. It almost seemed that the two were running from their pasts themselves. As if a past could catch up with them and ruin everything they'd worked so hard for. It was a crazy thing to even think, but it seemed to fit the pair. And it made Lauren wonder, what was their past like? Where did this pair come from? Neither had an accent, and not much was known about either's past. The FBI only knew the things they'd done since they started conning. And so no one really knew how people like Neal and Blackbird became as they were. It was something that had always intrigued Lauren. She wanted to know the how. How did they get to be that way? What events in their past triggered it? She'd thought to ask Blackbird, but that woman was so secretive. Blackbird liked her secrets, and she kept them way too well.

Before Lauren realized it they were on the doorstep of the Burkes. She hadn't been paying any mind to what was really going on she'd just been thinking. It was hard to do much else when you were faced with someone as complex as Blackbird. "Birdie," El said brightly as she answered the door her eyes twinkling and a bright smile stretching her lips.

"El, I'm sorry we're running a little late. I had to do some stuff at the house, and Lauren here has been in a daze since this morning." Blackbird said with a grin, and Lauren frowned shaking her head, but wasn't offended. A few good natured jibes between friends were alright. At least as far as Lauren was concerned. El just nodded and lead them into the kitchen. As everyone sat El put mugs of coffee in front of each woman and some juice before Vincent.

"Are you goin to give mama a job," Vincent asked El as the woman joined them at the table. His wide blue eyes landed on her and for a split second El wondered if the little boy was staring into her soul. It felt like he was. The mere thought of it sent a shiver down her spine. Neal was the same way, it was as if he could see right into your soul. He could understand everything about you. Not that either seemed the type to use that to their advantage. It was just creepy to have someone understand you like that.

"I'm thinking about it," El said with a soft smile. She looked down at the folder before her in need of avoiding the eyes of the boy. "Your mama seems to have the kind of taste that would do my business a great deal of good." El looked up from the folder and grinned at Scarlett. Scarlett just nodded with a smile in return.

"So what do I have to do," Scarlett asked eying the manilla folder wearily.

"Well I just want to give you the basics of a function to plan, and you let me know what you'd do. Upon that I'll decide if I want to work with you or not," El said. With that the interview began. Before long El was watching Scarlett plan a party with a wide smile on her face. This woman knew what she was talking about. This woman had class. She'd picked a simple but elegant black and white old hollywood theme. It was needless to say that El was thoroughly impressed. She had figured from the look of her that Scarlett had style, but she'd never have guessed that she could be so good at planning an entire event. Those kinds of things took an excessive amount of work and organization. And from what El had heard of Scarlett she was not an organized person. Her version of organized was more like organized chaos. But surprisingly Scarlett could throw together a hell of a party. And El actually looked forward to working with the woman. She seemed to know what she was talking about, and be able to take herself just seriously enough but not so seriously that it wouldn't be any fun. In the end El gave her the job, she'd kind of figured she would from the start, but it was all a matter of formality. "So I heard Neal wants to take you out tonight," El moved on to another topic with a conspiratorial smile.

"I don't know where you heard that from. He's told me nothing about it." Scarlett shrugged sipping her lukewarm coffee, and frowning inwardly. She knew Neal just wanted to get her out on another date. He was hoping to wear her down, and that's something she wouldn't allow to happen. She couldn't let him wear her down. But she supposed that didn't mean she couldn't go out and have a good time. They were friends after all.

"well he said so himself," el said with a smile not missing a beat. She saw the determined look on her new friend's face and knew what it meant. That was the same look she'd seen dozens of women get when talking about their exes whom they were still in love with. "It won't kill you to give him a shot Birdie. He's a good man."

Scarlett looked up a frown clearly evident on her face. "What is with everyone today and taking his side?"

Lauren frowned a little, she didn't blame Blackbird for feeling the way that she did, but El was right. Neal was a good man. And Lauren had never seen him so focused and determined to do something. Blackbird was a hell of a motivator. "I hate to stand up for Caffrey seeing as he is Caffrey," Lauren said quietly and sighed when Blackbird turned a disbelieving to her. "You're good for him Birdie. I've never seen him so focused. He's a whole different person with you around. More like an adult than I've ever seen him."

"The point is not whether I am good for him. It is whether he is good for my son and I," Scarlett snapped a little causing both women to recoil a little from her temper. They'd never seen her lose her temper before. She was like Neal that way in the fact that they just didn't snap.

"Mommy," Vincent said quietly causing all three women to turn to him as if they'd forgotten he was there. And they had. He was just sitting so quietly that it was easy to forget the little boy was there at all. "I think you should go out with mister Neal. He makes you smile and you deserve to smile." He sounded so wise for a boy of merely five. But he'd been thinking a lot about this. He may not like that Neal made his mother happier than he'd ever seen her, but that didn't change the facts. And the facts were that somehow Neal made his mother happy. And his mother was such a good person and sacrificed so much for him that she deserves all the happiness the world could give her. It was as simple as that. At least in Vincent's mind it was.

Scarlett merely nodded numbly to this. Her son had grown up. When had that happened? And now here he sat giving her advice and sharing his wisdom with her. It hadn't been but yesterday it seemed that she was sitting at the table talking to him, sharing her wisdom with him, teaching him how to live his life. Trying to make him a good person. A better person than her or his father had ever been, or ever could be. She told him about her shady past. She told him about how bad a person his grandfather was. Not but yesterday it was Scarlett telling Vincent how to lead a good life, how to be happiest while still being the best possible person. And here sat Vincent, today, telling her that it was her right to be happy. She should be allowed to be happy. She'd never thought it'd be possible, but she was amazed. This little boy understood everything, grasped everything so much more than she'd ever thought he had. And so it was done. Vincent was left with El again, and Lauren rushed Scarlett home to get dressed. Not that she was happy about it, but who could deny the clear blue eyes of that little boy? A slinky black dress was pulled from her small suitcase, and pulled over her mussed red hair. Lauren watched as she stood in front of the mirror settling her hair back into place, and putting on a little extra blush.

"It's kind of funny to watch a woman primp for Caffrey," the woman laughed a little from her spot on the bed.

"Well, I haven't been on any dates in years. Aside from that one with Neal last week. It's a little nerve wracking, especially given our-" she was cut off by the sound of the door opening. Red hair flew behind her as her head snapped to meet a crystaline pair of blue eyes that fell on her as Neal stopped dead in the door. His mouth gaped and Birdie couldn't help but laugh a little. "Flies my dear, flies," she chided playfully slipping into a pair of black heels.

"Right...flies," he said awkwardly shutting the door and trying desperately to swallow so that his mouth wasn't so full of cotton. "I think you may be a little over dressed for where we're going." Lauren cut him a look immediately, and he sighed a little. "Right, never mind."

"You need to learn when to just let things go Caffrey," Lauren chuckled patting his chest on her way out the door. "I'll see you tomorrow Blackbird. You be good, don't do anything I wouldn't." There was a wink, and the door shut behind the other woman. Scarlett laughed to herself and merely shook her head.

"So I guess you're getting along with Lauren," Neal offered dropping his fedora onto the kitchen table and opening his arms for a hug hoping desperately she'd step into it.

"Of course we are, us talented women who don't fall for your charm and wit have to stick together," she offered playfully carefully stepping around him and grabbing her coat off the rack. "Now let's go and get this over with shall we? Where are we going anyways?"

"Dancing," was the only answer before she was drug out the door by her hand trying desperately to keep up with the taller man while wearing her heels. Any other questions were brushed aside as they made their way down the cool pavement arm in arm. He would have begged her to trust him for once in her life, but he knew it would never happen, not totally. She couldn't trust anyone totally, but she trusted him as much as she possibly could. And she could have begged him to stop trying to sweep her off her feet, and just act like an adult, but that would never happen. Neal's only way of charming a woman was sweeping her off her feet, and he'd never know how to act like an adult. They reach a small dark club quicker than Scarlett would have expected, and were escorted to a table in one of the exclusive corners. Why? It was an old habit for bother of them.

"Dancing," she asked finally when they were seated and Neal had ordered them a bottle of win. A thing pale finger ran around the rim of her glass nervously as pearly white teeth wore on her red painted lips. Dates, Scarlett had never done well on dates. She could be charming, she could appear open, she could be suave, and she could convince a man she was interested even when she wasn't. But as for a serious relationship? Well Neal had been the only one, because she just never had found anyone else she trusted like him. Trust issues, they could ruin your life.

"Have a glass of wine Birdie, relax," a sly smile spread across his mouth and it made Scarlett shudder.

"You're not getting me back into bed with you Neal. It won't happen."

"I wouldn't dream of it," there was a chuckle that she recognized all too well, but she took a sip from her glass anyways, more out of nerves than because she really wanted to.

"El hired me today, my first event will be next week," the petite red head offered by way of conversation because the intent stare she was getting from the man across the table from her was making her exceedingly nervous.

"Good to see you're putting down roots," and it was, it really was. Maybe she'd stay. Maybe all this time spent with her wouldn't be a wash. Maybe the infamous Neal Caffrey would finally settle in and become a family man. Maybe he'd buy her a ring. Maybe they'd get married. An artistic happy little family of Caffreys. Maybe they'd have another child, a daughter this time with Birdie's flamboyantly red hair and willful smile. Maybe he'd buy her a ring. A real ring this time. Not a chinsy one out of a gumball machine. A ring she could wear on her little finger that would prove she was his, and his alone. And he would be her's and there would be no ifs ands or buts about it.

"That's not what this is Neal. I need money, I need a way to feed us. If I do a couple jobs for El I can get in somewhere else. I can get other work, legitimate work. A working mother, never thought I'd see the day," she laughed disheartingly taking another long sip from her glass.

"You don't have to be a working mother. I'll take care of you both. You can settle in with me. I'll get a bigger place. I'll be good for you. We can get married. We can buy a house." Crystal blue eyes so full of hope that she almost believed it could work. She almost believed everything could be alright between them. But then she remembered when she found out she was pregnant, and the look she'd always imagined Neal having when she told him. It was something between shock and horror and guilt, and that look that she knew he'd have had was enough to have her standing up quickly knocking the person behind her with her chair.

"I'm sorry, I need... I need some air." Neal only nodded numbly as she made her way to the door, but then followed closely behind once he thought better of it. Something could happen to her, and he didn't want that. He saw red hair flow around the corner of the alley, and he decided not to follow her down it. Instead Neal stood at the mouth of the alley just listening, just to be sure she was alright. He heard her down there taking deep steadying breaths.

Scarlett's head bent, red hair curtaining her face. She heard footsteps, but they weren't Neal's. They were coming from the wrong direction. They were shorter paced. They weren't as confident and steady as his. And then there was a muffled scream as a rag was thrust over her mouth and she lost consciousness.

Neal waited a little while longer, he thought perhaps she had finally gotten a hold of herself, but when he turned the corner he found the little red head gone. "Shit," he growled pulling his cellphone from his pocket.

"Burke," Peter said as he answered the phone.

"They've got Birdie," it came out in a rush of words.


	7. The Knot

He couldn't breathe, he felt like the world was closing in around him, and his heart was going to just stop beating entirely. Neal was going to die. Or pass out. But likely die. Because his world was crumbling quickly around him. Birdie was gone. To who knows where. To who knows with. And he had no way of getting her back. He had no way of assuring himself that she was safe by wrapping his arms tightly around her. And damn would this be hard to explain to the little boy who would be walking through that door any minute now. He couldn't even think about it. He couldn't even try to comprehend what he was going to tell his son. His son who didn't even know that Neal was his father. What was he going to say? How was he going to explain to their son that he got mommy into a shit load of trouble, and now neither of them may ever see her again? How can you explain that to a five year old? What would Vincent say? He'd be angry with Neal. Neal knew it. It was his job to keep Birdie safe. It was his job to protect mommy, and he failed Vincent miserably. He failed the little boy just like he'd failed Birdie before, and he knew the look he'd get for it. The little boy may have had his face, his eyes, his hair, but he grew up with Birdie, and he'd have that look on his face that said clearly how disappointed he was in the man. And he'd feel the exact same feeling, like he'd betrayed the person he cared about the most in the world, and couldn't fix the damage he'd done.

When the door creaked loudly he was sitting on the couch in his darkened apartment, his head in his hands, and a full glass of bourbon on the table in front of him. He'd poured it for himself over an hour ago, knowing he needed a drink, but not being able to bring himself to drink it. He'd also bought himself a pack of cigarettes, but they were sitting beside the drink unopened. The comfort would be nice. The dull haze would make things slightly better. But he just couldn't bring himself to drink or smoke when he knew that Birdie would be ashamed of him, and would want him to be the father he should have been. And he couldn't disappoint her, he couldn't bring himself to disappoint her. "Mister Neal," Vincent asked as he stepped slowly towards the man sitting hunched on the couch. Peter stood by the door watching the pair carefully.

"Yes Vincent," he looked up to meet the eyes of the little boy, his own blue eyes red and swollen from crying. He'd lost her. And this time he wasn't so sure he could get her back.

"Where is mama," Vincent asked moving to stand right in front of the man, meeting his eyes head on. The little boy showed no fear, none at all. But somewhere he knew something was wrong, and Neal's puffed eyes only proved it to him. Vincent may be just a child, but he paid attention. And he heard Neal on the phone with Peter. He heard Peter explain to Elizabeth what had happened. He already knew it all, but he had to hear it from the man who had promised when they'd come here to protect them. Neal was supposed to protect his mama, and Vincent was angry that he hadn't kept his promise.

"I'm so sorry Vincent," that was a bad way to start, and Neal knew it, but he didn't know what else to say. He could see it in the little boy's eyes, the boy already knew. And the boy was so angry with Neal he could spit. But so much like his parents he retained a calm composure and faced the situation head on. Well, the head on part was nothing like either of them when they were younger, but more like them now. Before they would have run from a tough situation. But now, now the pair was much more apt to deal with a situation than run from it, because they weren't willing to lose what little they had left. They had lost almost everything that was their old lives, and what they had left meant so much to them that they weren't willing to lose it. They were willing to fight for it, for the first time in their lives.

"Start from the beginnin'," Vincent demanded crossing his arms and sitting on the coffee table. Peter nodded to himself as the pair settled in, and left. They didn't need him, but if they did he knew he'd get a call. Likely if the little boy beating up his father, but that didn't matter. This was too intimate a setting for Peter. So he left. He clicked the door softly behind himself, and made his way home, leaving the pair to sort this out.

"Well, she went out for air, because I upset her with something I said, and then she was just gone." Neal felt like he was about to crack at the mere mention of it. But he held himself together because he didn't have a choice in the matter, it was that or fall apart when Vincent clearly needed him too much to just do that. He had to be a father. Birdie had finally forced the man to do the one thing he never thought he'd have to, be an adult. And as an adult, for once in his life, he'd have to take care of someone else. "Just gone."

"Do you think they'll hurt her," Vincent squeaked. He could see this was killing the man before him. He could see this was an accident. He could see this wasn't Neal's fault. But his mind was firmly about his mama right now. He was worried for her. He didn't want her hurt. He couldn't bare to see her hurt. He couldn't bare to be without his mama, however selfish that might be.

"I'm not going to let them Vincent. I won't let them hurt her." Neal's voice was stronger than it had been moments before when he said this. He couldn't let them hurt Birdie. She meant the world to him. And when he saved her, he'd put a ring on her finger, and bury her name so deep no one would ever find her again. She'd be safe with him, he'd be sure of that. For the rest of their lives, till they were old and grey, and feeding pigeons in the park. "And I promise you we'll have her back here within the week."

"Yuw swear," the little boy asked quirking a dark brow critically at the older man.

"Didn't your mama ever teach you it's bad to swear," Neal asked and he found himself smiling a little at the light hearted nature he suddenly felt around the boy. Like this was somehow just right. Just natural. He was a father, and it felt good.

"She did, but I expec' yuw tuw swear," Vincent said in an overly serious tone his blue eyes cutting sharply at the man before him.

"I swear," Neal conceded. "Now, what do you want to eat, because I've got to be honest, I'm starved."

"Can we make blueberry pancakes, I'll show you how mama makes them." Neal only nodded. He had to make things right, he just had to. But first he had to take care of the son he'd never known he had. Neither of them would be any good to Birdie if they let this thing rip them apart. Right now he felt like dying, and he knew Vincent did too, but with a full belly, and some sleep, they could work this out and get his mama back. But first the little boy needed food in his stomach, and a night of sleep, and Neal was going to provide that. They went about making blueberry pancakes, the little boy teaching Neal, and Neal finding that maybe one day he could do this all on his own. Maybe one day he could be the father Vincent always deserved. There were no questions. There was no why, or how. There was just the knowing that he didn't have any choice in the matter, and he'd do the best he could with what he had. There was just do. He didn't even wonder if he could, because the truth of the matter was, it didn't matter if he believed he could, it didn't matter if he wanted to, he had to. Because this was his son, and they needed him. And for the first time in his life he felt like he actually needed to do this thing for his family, for another person.

The pancakes were made, and eaten in silence. They stared each other down over the table. It wasn't until Neal had gotten Vincent into his pajamas, and was about to tuck him in that the little boy finally spoke to him again. "I want to hear a story," Vincent declared, blue eyes set firmly.

"Excuse me," Neal asked quirking a brow and stopping mid yank as he pulled the little boy's covers up to his chin.

"Yes, Mama always tells me a story before bed, and I need yuw tuw tell me one. Otherwise I can't go to sleep." Little hands were clenched into determined fists as the boy met his father's eyes. Neal swallowed hard, and wondered idly if that's what he looked like when he threw one of his tantrums. Birdie has always mocked him for being such a child, and throwing tantrums, but Neal had never seen himself do it. Now watching Vincent do it, he realized how ridiculous it looked, and at the same time why Birdie could never tell him no when he started to throw a tantrum.

"What story do you want to hear," Neal consented finishing pulling the covers up to the little boy's chin, and ruffling his hair. Neal could only hope it'd be a story he'd know. He didn't know half of the fairy tales people told their children. And he was certain Birdie would do a much better job at telling a story than he ever would. She just had the knack for it that he didn't feel he had.

"A real one."

"A real one," Neal asked confused by the statement. There must be more to it than that. And the idea that Vincent wanted a real story was kind of scary. That meant he wanted the truth. There was no making this one up. It had to be honest.

"Your's and mama's," the little boy said simply, and sent Neal into a deadly silence. Neal's eyes averted down to the down comforter, trying to think. He didn't understand the request. Nor did he feel comfortable having this conversation with Vincent when Birdie wasn't around. He didn't know what Scarlett had told the little boy, but he knew that the boy didn't know that Neal was his father. He wasn't sure that Vincent even knew if he had a father. But there was something in the pleading look in his eyes. Something in the way his eyes all but demanded this story. Scarlett was going to kill him, she was definitely going to kill him for this.

"What," Neal asked wincing at how his voice sounded more like a croak than his voice.

"I want to know how you and mama met," Vincent clarified. His voice was so crisp and clear Neal sighed running a hand through his hair.

"I don't think I can Vincent. I think maybe your mama should tell you that. Plus you know, she's a much better story teller than I am. It would be much better coming from her. She always did have a flair for that sort of thing." Neal was rambling and making up excuses, and he knew that was what he was doing. But he couldn't help it. He was just so flustered, and for a moment he felt as if Vincent were asking about his intentions towards Scarlett. Scarlett didn't have a father who could put him on the spot, but she sure as hell had a son more than willing to do it. It was enough to set Neal's teeth on edge. But there was something in the set to the little boy's jaw that said that Neal wasn't going to be getting out of this.

"It's important," the little boy said crossing his arms over his chest, and meeting Neal's stare head on.

Well, he may as well bite the bullet. He wasn't getting out of this one. Scarlett would kill him for this, but he wasn't going to be getting out of it. "Alright," he sighed running a hand through his hair again. "But you can't tell your mama I told you this, she'll skin me alive," Neal warned, and Vincent nodded along eagerly a smile lighting his little face. "You're just like her you know? Horribly obstinate."

"What does ob-si-nant mean," Vincent asked trying hard to sound the word out and failing.

"Stubborn. Bullheaded. Strong willed."

"Funny, that's what mama says about yuw," Vincent said with a childish giggle, and then realized his mama wasn't there and seemed to sober at the thought. Suddenly he was wringing his little hands, and looking down at them with glassy eyes.

"Hey," Neal said carefully taking one of the little hands in his own, and giving it a gentle squeeze. "She'll be back soon, very soon. I'm sure she will." Neal wasn't great at this whole comforting thing, and when the little boy leapt at him, hugging his neck, Neal patted him in an awkward fashion. "It's alright Vincent. Me and Mister Burke won't stop until we find her. I promise."

"Thank you," The little boy returned quietly with a little sniffle. Neal could feel quiet tears soaking his shirt, but he didn't say anything.

"Don't worry about it Vincent. We're family. That's what family does for each other." Gentle fingers ran through the little boy's thick dark hair.

"We are," Vincent asked leaning away from the wet spot on Neal's shirt, and sniffling again.

Neal immediately realized his mistake, but thought quick. That had always been his strength, thinking quick on his feet. "Well, your mother and I are like family because we have been friends for so long. That makes you my family as well. And since neither of us have much family, we've got to stick together." It was the truth at least. He and Scarlett didn't have any family, and as such they had always stuck together. And just like that Vincent and he should stick together. Even if Vincent hadn't been Neal's son, it would have still been the same, it would have still been the truth. And Neal doubted he'd treat Vincent any differently, in fact this may be a little less awkward. Simply because he wouldn't have that secret on the tip of his tongue just waiting to be told. Just wanting to be told.

"Yuw're right. That's what mama always says. We don't have a wot of family, but we have friends, and they can be wike family," Vincent nodded along whipping his nose on his sleeve.

"Vincent, don't do that," Neal grimaced. Scarlett would also kill him if she came home and Vincent had snot all over his pajamas. "Here, use a hanky," he offered pulling it from his pocket, and offering it to the little boy. The boy looked at it confused, frowning. Neal laughed a little and put the hanky to his nose "Blow your nose in it Vincent." The boy did as instructed, and Neal laughed again tossing the thing into the pile of dirty laundry. A muffled thank you was offered as the little boy settled back into the bed and looked at Neal with wide expectant eyes. "Right, right the story. So you know your mother used to be an art thief yes?"

"Yes. Mama told me aww about her wife before me," Vincent nodded along, and Neal couldn't help but think that she hadn't told him everything obviously. But it was a comfort to know that at least Scarlett hadn't hidden everything from the boy. It was a comfort to know that Neal could be honest with him. A comfort to know that Scarlett had had someone else she could be honest with aside from himself. She hadn't lost the ability to trust someone. And one day soon she would trust Neal again.

"Yes, well I was a thief then too."

"She told me that too," Vincent interrupted with a little roll of his eyes. Neal frowned a little.

"Are you going to let me tell the story or not? I have an early day at work tomorrow you know, and I don't want to sit up all night telling you if you already know."

"No, no, I'll stop," Vincent offered quickly shutting his mouth and sitting back watching Neal.

"Good," Neal nodded with a little smirk. "Now your mother and I were both art thieves. Well, we were both in a museum in Dublin. She was looking at this lovely Van Gough, and I'm sure you've seen the pictures, she used to have that nice short hair. It was so strange, especially then, most people didn't do that."

"Yes, she has several," Vincent broke off looking embarrassed and looking down at his hands.

Neal's brows quirked in interest. "What's that she has," Neal asked laughing lightly at the embarrassed expression on the boy's face.

"Well, she has a shoe box of photos she keeps. Whens he's not home I look through them," Vincent admitted guiltily, his eyes watching his hands. Neal grinned a little. "She has several from when she had that hair. And-" the boy started but stopped himself shaking his head. Reproaching himself for admitting to such things. Surely Mister Neal would tell his Mama and she'd get rid of the pictures. Then he wouldn't be able to look at them when he missed her.

"And," Neal insisted.

"Promise you won't tell," the little boy asked, his face still a sullen mask of guilt. Neal nodded reassuringly.

"It'll just be between us," Neal offered easily. It was true, it would be just between them. A father son type thing. They could share things. They could keep each other's secrets. That's what a father was for after all right? To feed you ice cream for breakfast and hide it from your mother. To teach you to fight, and keep it from your mother. All of those things and more. That's what fathers and sons did, even if it wasn't generally acknowledged by the son that they were father and son. It didn't seem to matter at all. They were falling into the roles quite nicely.

"Well, Mama has this box of photos of from when she was younger. When she had that hair cut. And when... Well when she spent time with yuw. When yuw were friends. And when she goes out I look through them so I don't miss her so much. She has some of them with her, do yuw want to see them?" Vincent didn't know why he offered. He didn't know why he thought Mister Neal should see them. But it was almost important for Neal to know that his mother cared about him, even though Mama acted as if she didn't. Vincent knew differently. He knew his Mama cared about Mister Neal. Vincent didn't see any reason why Mister Neal himself shouldn't know. After all, he had already said they were family. And Vincent rather liked Mister Neal. He made Mama happy. Mama's happiness was always number two on Vincent's list, right under her safety. She was all he had, and although he didn't like the idea of her spending time with someone else aside from him, he knew she'd always make time for him. And Mister Neal could fit in quite nicely to their little family. Like a father, maybe, but not.

"Yes, I think I'd like that," Neal nodded with a little grin. Vincent grinned brightly, and crawled quickly across the bed to the side where his mother's bag was perched on a chest where Neal kept some of his books and things. From that he retrieved a little wooden box. Mama always switched over a few things into a little box so that she'd have them. Vincent didn't understand why they were necessary, but he liked having them, and he liked being able to look at them. When he returned to the bed he opened the box, and pulled a hand full of pictures of a young Neal and a young Scarlett to show to the man.

"These are just a few, Mama has a whole box at home," Vincent offered spreading them out on the bed in front of them both. Neal smiled a little at the pictures, each drawing up memories he hadn't thought of in quite some time.

"I remember these," Neal offered with a little laugh. "Do you think I can hang onto these for a little bit?" Vincent nodded happily. "Now, I think you better get to bed. Is there anything else you need?" Vincent thought on this for a moment, and then crawled back across the bed, retrieved his mother's silk robe from the bag, and curled up with it. Neal nodded and tucked the boy in. "Good night Vincent," Neal offered kissing the boy on the forehead. Vincent cuddled in closer to his mothers robe, and nodded as Neal turned out the light and went to sleep on the couch.

It was far from restful. In fact Neal couldn't even shut his eyes for fear if he slept a wink he may lose Birdie in the night. He couldn't stand the thought. So he lay awake looking at the photographs, rehashing the old memories, and trying to form some sort of plan to rescue her. Somewhere during the night he moved to the bed to lay beside a shaking Vincent who was having nightmares without his mother there. Neal didn't know what else to do. But it was almost a comfort when he moved to the bed, and the little boy curled up into his chest. He seemed to calm now that there was someone holding him, and Neal couldn't help but feel that perhaps he could pull off this whole father thing after all.

* * *

Somewhere in the meat packing district, in a dark abandoned warehouse, Scarlett groaned. Her back was stiff from the hard chair she was tied to. Her head was still a little foggy from the drugs they'd used to knock her out. She could feel crust on her eyes from them watering in her sleep. Her mouth was terribly dry. How many hours had she been out? What time was it? She had woken up a few minutes ago, but she had yet to really bother with where she was. It didn't matter. She was in a shit load of trouble, that's all she knew. She groaned a little.

"Good morning Birdie," a voice came from behind her with a sneer in it. Scarlett recognized the voice and groaned again. Damn that woman.

"Ah Kate, you're looking spiteful as always," Scarlett offered with a smile that caused her chapped lips to crack painfully. Not that it mattered much. Neal would be on his way soon enough with his FBI buddies. This would all be alright. She was certain of it. Neal wouldn't let anything happen to her, not so long as he was still breathing.

"You should watch yourself little Bird. I have your life in my hands now." Kate had this strange look to her face, like an animal bearing it's teeth, and Scarlett was certain if she'd be a cat the hair on her back would be raised.

Scarlett merely shrugged in response. She wasn't worried about Kate. She'd be out of here soon. Safe and sound. Wrapped up in Neal's bed, with Vincent curled up beside her. It would be alright. She was sure of it. "Right, right, off with you. I'd like to get a nap," Scarlett offered and only chuckled when Kate scowled at her, but wandered off anyways, and Scarlett slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Neal woke up with drool on his chest, and a silken robe wrapped around his legs. Vincent clung to him tightly. He couldn't help but smile lightly at the little boy wrapped around him. His son. Dark hair hid the little boy's face, but from the soft snore coming from the boy he could tell the child was still asleep. Neal sighed a little looking at the clock beside the bed. He needed to start getting ready for work, but with the night Vincent had, he didn't particularly want to wake the little boy. "Mister Neaw." Too late.

"Yes," Neal asked looking down on the boy again who was watching him intently.

"Can I come to work wit yuw?" Neal looked at him surprised. He didn't know what to say. The FBI office wasn't really a place for a little boy. But he knew once Vincent wanted something there was nothing he could do about it. He'd have to take the boy. Peter wouldn't be happy. But who else would watch Vincent during the day? El had to work. Lauren wasn't really cut out for baby sitting. So it was up to Neal. Peter would just have to understand. Neal nodded, and the boy jumped up excitedly running to the bathroom to get ready.

"Don't forget to brush your teeth," Neal called after him standing, and going to make breakfast. Which would consist of cereal, because they didn't have all sorts of time for him to make a full breakfast.

"I know, I know. Mama always tewws me," Vincent called from the bathroom with a little laugh. Neal just rolled his eyes, and the morning proceeded as usual, well, minus Birdie. Which made it seem a little less cheerful. A little less bright. And even the sun refused to come through the clouds. Neal could just feel the bags under his eyes. But he refused to let the worn down expression play across his face while Vincent was looking. Peter walked in while the little boy was still in the bathroom.

"You bringing the kid," Peter asked looking down at the two bowls of milk and the cereal plopped unceremoniously in the middle of the table.

"Haven't got a choice," Neal shrugged looking at his bowl of cereal with a frown. His stomach turned, and he picked up the bowl to pour the milk out in the sink.

"You don't look so good," Peter commented dryly taking a seat at the table.

"I don't feel so good. Neither of us got much sleep last night. He really misses her." He was wearing on his lip, a habit which he quickly realized was not his own but Scarlett's instead. This only made the sickening knot in his stomach tighten. But when Vincent came running out of the bathroom to offer his teeth for examination, Neal plastered a smile onto his face.

"Did I do a good job Mister Neaw," Vincent asked, and Neal nodded before pouring some cereal into Vincent's bowl. "Good mornin' Mister Peter." Peter merely nodded, and Neal went to get ready for work. It would be a long day. He could tell. He could feel it, in the pit of his stomach. And he let the shower run extra hot in hopes that it would settle it.


End file.
